by UC Poika aka Just Fn Crazy

    she waved to me
    as a lake, yes, a sea,
    but not the Mississippi
    I knew from above
    St. Paul near Lake Itasca
    where she babbled to us
    stories of explorers
    as we walked across
    her source on rocks
    not even boulders
    welcoming the rain.

    she sang to us
    of beginnings and ends
    of life in between
    of fish eggs and small fry
    of minnows and fingerlings
    of game fish and of lunkers
    of Tom Sawyer and New Orleans
    of the Gulf and the oceans
    successes coming in relative sizes

    but I think a little now
    and my thoughts grow
    from a single fish egg
    to the size of a whale
    not much larger
    than a VW in NY too
    soon to the junkyard
    forgotten scrap metal:
    how large the past
    where everything passes
    how small the future
    that always leads to it
    aw! just forget about it
    live in the
    in between times.