The Mighty River March

A vixen sits upon the bench
Her body asking questions,
Her stinging complications
Reflecting off the green
Of liquid glass –
A burning vein of water
A shallow, backwards river
That stretches on forever
From future to the past.
Her shoulders turn to face me
I tilt my head to tell her
That I want no part of knowledge
And it only brings despair.
But I fail and now I follow
As she walks toward the streetlights
The torches of a city plagued by
Humid, heavy air.
And as she turns her head around she smiles,
Her eyes, two pools of dying blue;
And I struggle to catch up
To find out where we’re going to.
And pretty soon we are alone
Cut off from every person
Her attitude’s possession
And I’m a little pawn
In her little game.
Because I really wanna do this
And I would not fight to change this,
And those it’s not the safest thing to do
I decide to stay.
She says, “O! Simple Soldier,
Just march toward the river
So we can fall together
And there will be no difference
Between you and me.
Because I think you have the answer,
Some fucking grain of cancer;
The only, holy chance where
Our bodies will be free!”
And as I nod my head the lights go out.
Then gravity dissolves the room.
And I struggle with my brain that tells me,
“Stop!”
Oh, the mirrors bled!
And, “Oh! My aching head”
And, “Oh! How about instead-”
“Just shut your mouth and
Crawl into my bed!”
In your eyes I saw babies die
I saw fathers cry
I saw priests collide
I watched crosses crash into the countryside
The way in which we live our lives.
A silver statue made of crime
The march of evil, bastard time.
And I saw you
Lift off of me
And exhale-
Your body; tired, rigid, pale
And you collapse.