The Facade of a Poem


As I sit down and breathe I bring myself up to the rivers edge and look over into the swirling of dirt caused by a fish kicking up from the muck. To bring myself away from the pull of gravity I come here and sit without moving for hours on end. The ending of myself in the nature surroundings brings a false sense of peace that pervades my thoughts into grandiose dreams of years gone by. Nature pushes its hand down gently to my face and softly presses its lips to my eyelids. To dream of the simple life of children is all that I dare to do because any dream other than that will bring me back to the problems at hand. 

Getting away from problems is a national past time here in America. We push it back for the next generation or we shove it off with our vices. We live in a nation of hypocrites and I throw stones out of my glass house and watch it shatter all around me. Th glass falls into my hair, it cuts my face, it reflects the sun right into my eyes. Maybe part of being alive is busting down the glass house we live in. 

Back to the river I go and dip my feet in the cool water as the dragonflies observe my movements with the sudden and jerky movement of nervous insects knowing that their time is limited and that they have things to do. The business of life seems to overwhelm me but I shove it away with the swat of a horsefly from my face. 

I get up and leave the river and move to walk towards my car. The handle is shiny and hot. My thoughts go back to real life, to the good, the busy, and the bad. I do not look back towards the river because I will turn into a pillar of salt. 

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