all along the river’s bend
empty, earthen vessels float
certain stories never end
they stay as lumps in the throat
and ‘why did you?’ the judges scream
golden sailors make no noise
nothing to say, no dream to dream
but the river must flow – it got no choice
and then one day, when the skies frowned
a funny boy with a tilted hat
he wept a little, for the boats had drowned
and he kissed the river, and that was that.
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