river runs in the setting sun
something smooth, slippery, elusive
just below the surface
to hold
I’d rather grab an angry bear
wrestle and roar
matted fur filthy
and foul breath hot in my face
take it head on
no subtly nuanced quiet whispers
influencing, isolating
damn your wretched soul-sucking judgments
damn your sensitivity, your caution
damn your concern
let it roar, attack
with trident and net
turn the waters red
Sounds like you took a bath at the track, there, Franklin. If you need a little something to tide you over let me know.
I put it all on Jake the Snake to show. Since I know nothing about harness racing you can see why I’m sulky.