This is the river
We drift along,
Alone.
Between lips
Of jungle green
On a liquid tongue
Of bumbling foam.
We hang our hands
In the water, and grab
An alligator, asking
“Where, why?”-
“Oh, my…please-
Ask gain later”
Slyly responds
The grinning alligator
Yes,
We have no guess
As to where we’re going
When adrift
In idleness
And without knowing.
We drift along,
Alone.
Between lips
Of jungle green
On a liquid tongue
Of bumbling foam.
We hang our hands
In the water, and grab
An alligator, asking
“Where, why?”-
“Oh, my…please-
Ask gain later”
Slyly responds
The grinning alligator
Yes,
We have no guess
As to where we’re going
When adrift
In idleness
And without knowing.