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 donít want

And canít 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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