The River of Comfort

Down the river Far from the emptied swimming pools Far from skateboards Down the cold, foaming river Sitting, reclined in a floating rubber tire Skin tanned from summer sun T-shirt stained from farm work Dirt, mud, sticks, fire All muddle your shirts colors Your mouth full of smoke In your hand, a rolled paper smoke In your top coat pocket, three more stand Resting like bullets in the chamber The sides of your coat, dripping wet Dragging behind you in the water There you sit Farmlands can be seen in both eyes Yellow grass, red barns White silos with blue caps Green tractors There in those barns Moonshine is made Squeezed from the fruits of autumn There, in those barns Secret plants are grown Little laboratories are set up A mix of white doctors tables And the smell of hay The river keeps pulling you forward The sky blue like deep water Clouds with foamy shapes Metal can of lemon juice in your spare hand Its sharp lid bent to one side Cold with ice that jingles like pocket keys This is a good trip Not psychedelic or anything Just calm Just relaxed Just right for floating Fish underneath you Swimming against the current Their bodies the color of clay The rocks around them The same color but covered with snails Moss green snails Plate sized painted turtles paddle along Their eyes striped with yellow Their shells the color of dried pumpkin fire A puff off your wrapped paper smoke A new wave of sleepy muscles Of new ideas and new questions But mostly of calm enjoyment Another puff as you keep floating down The river goes for miles more, so you will too