I asked the river Why are you always running
away from home like some desperate teenage girl?
I saw you smoking cigarettes in the alley with that angel
from Pearl Street, the one with the jailhouse tattoos
and the elaborate piercings. Act your age, River.
I asked the river Why do you keep falling
like Gravity is your only friend? She betrays you over
and over and yet you keep falling for her, as if you can’t resist.
Her bleak majesty must call to you, even though or
because you know you can’t have her.
I asked the river, River, what did you mean by that look,
when you were swollen with rain and I couldn’t stand
not to be wet so I jumped in? The river as always held her cards
close to her breasts, because they were trout and they glimmered,
and I wanted so badly to hold them.