There’s something about a city on a river:
it could be near the ocean’s coast
stuck like a tick on the business end
of the delta,
or somewhere upstream
where the supply ships send
their soldiers, sorghum and saltpeter
for distribution
to the land-locked plains beyond.

There’s something about a city on a river:
it has less in common with
its inland neighbors,
though mere minutes down the road,
than with far-flung places
on the map that likewise
play corpuscle to some continental vein,
bringing back a tired
and worn out nation’s blood
to its life source.

There’s something about a city on a river,
especially one that finds the sea:
it tends to mix its metaphors
like the colors and creeds of its visitors,
who seek to strike a balance
between old and new,
the known and strange,
finding in diversity a strength
that land-bound armies
cannot know.

There’s something about a city on a river:
evolving with the ebb and flow
of tides beyond mankind’s control;
and those who make their homes there
find a way to bend and shape,
to seek and touch a truth
that in a desert well
or hidden lake
one only gets a taste.

09 APR 2013