River Junction

The river has changed course suddenly during the night,
And two people go fishing;
Knock the ash of the incense,
Two people go fishing, the cook and tourist;
Knock of the insect troubling my nose,
The river is angry..
And the fish, two of them, patiently wait for the fishermen,
The tourist and the cook with the striped green underwear.
While above, clouds of contrived diversities, color and race
Formate and battle..
In their everlasting war, with the mountains;
Still the silent fishermen, the cook and the tourist
Ask the river to yield up her store of food,
Something to take to the wives at dusk,
Fodder to feed illegitimately hazy children,
That grow crying in gardens of marijuana ..
And the fishermen fidget and change their cramped positions,
The cook and the tourist with the shoulder length blond hair..
A distant lamppost flickers and comes on,
And the battle begins..
The clouds gaining an upper hand,
Blood flows like torrents on the parched earth;
The cook stands up and breaks his rod in disgust,
The tourist rolls a joint and sings to the praises of the lord.
The watchman chases the permitless, enterprising fishermen away;
The drenched twosome walk out, each his way
The one with a broken rod and the other with his drenched weed.
The river with her unlimited supply
Flexes her boundaries, being enriched with the spoils of battle;
The watchman with his lantern swinging,
Trudges off towards a distant configuration of lights..