White frosted chocolate
mud flows like water
under the bridge
to visit Kansas City,
dally in Saint Louie,
join the Mississippi,
voyage to the sea to see ...
but not today.
Today it tastes like
warm waste water,
limp grass clippings,
an occasional dead cow;
it carries off
what land cannot hold onto:
white frosted waves,
a chocolate Milky-way,
loose bowels.
Note: Written after buying a postcard for a friend that showed the brown roiling Kansas (Kaw) River from the bridge in downtown Lawrence, Kansas. The recent floods were like this too. Impressive rapids by the dam looked like the approach to Niagara Falls ... just the wrong color. Original in blog entry: "Flood of '93 (poem) Jealousy?"
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