You are a cutthroat trout,
Mr. Floppy Feeble Hands,
push up river,
rush to spurt
more like you;
jump, and
blinded by purpose pixels,
pieces of something bigger
unseen, and
humbled by repeated deceit,
you miss our true forces
your time unknowingly wasted
begging and bartering
bigger pieces of the diminishing
river resources,
ever shrinking,
and you are
the more
in our mortality;
stop swimming;
it’s time to reconsider
the objective.


7 thoughts on “River

    • Thank you. You’re reading it right. There’s anger implied, and concern from the teller that the personal anger in the voice might override the universal meaning in the words.


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