Talking river

There is a moment
in any conversation
about the river
when I go poetic:
I feel the poetic juices
surging like
the fourth hour of
a pub crawl
when you resume smoking
when nothing matters
as much as everything
when what’s at
the bottom of your soul
comes directly
out your face
and into your own
personal mythology:

God, you’re fat
I always wanted to be a great lover
Nobody loves me
Let’s do it

— and nothing
will stop you
and nothing
is ever the same.

That’s how I am
ten seconds into
a conversation
about the river
The St. Lawrence
just down the street

It’s blue love
You can see it from the moon
It’s the allegory of creation
It’s the soul of art

And I’m blue sapphire sober.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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