Sunday, July 29, 2012

Bad air

I hear the river even in my dreams
The rush of its fast water giving up its steam
On hot days like these
I used to sit near the foot
Of the Dundee falls
Letting the spray cool my face
Fish feeding on the bottom
With their cris-cross patterned backs
Like crossword puzzles to fill in
Their lives defined by feed or die,
So they keep moving,
No sharks this far up river to worry over
Just the greedy fishermen
Who constantly cast, hooking the same fish
Again and again, fish they don’t want
And can’t eat because of the polluted water,
The same fish suffering through the hook
Over and over until they get used to the pain
Or dig deep in the muck in an attempt
To ignore the constantly dangling bait,
On hot days like this, old man Ben
Always brings out his cooler full of water
Handing me something to drink
And telling me to calm down,
Dig deep and wait for the wind
To blow all the bad air out
So we can all breathe free again.

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