The river looks angry today.
Not like an aggrivated mother
tending to beestings
when rock throwing accurracy
beats common sense, paper, scissor.
Not like a double shift cop –
just wanting a beer and a bed
and to be rid of the shell
keeper of the peace
or is it keeper of the piece?
He will live filling in for Jack
who called in sick and will
miss the day he was supposed to get
shot.
Rather
the river is angry like a juvinile Jormungandr
A hungry Norse snake
bent on crushing the world
but not old enough to drink and drive.
It swirls bitterly in the cold drizzle
of its grey adolescense.
It waits.
Frentic and sluggish
knowing time will shed skins
spread banks
topple factories
and leave it free to pursue great things…