The prehistoric tourist

 The river had gigantic fish
prehistoric and tattered
Sunshine for the summer
emptiness for the winter

The tourist guide
was a tourist yesterday
Lost in a mountain farm
One day later pseudo expert

searching for memories in the river
Moments that made sense
Leisure always as strange and bitter
as ocupation

running back to the river for sanity
The constant steady flow of water
calming nerves and trauma
Working them into place

That light brown clay riverbed
looked edible from the margin
like many illusions that build enticing imaginings
That amount to dirt

That others can form jokes and derision of
flowing them out as completely pathetic as they are
waiting to be rectified under some flashflood
like I could push a button

diamond like reflections on the surface
so pellucid as if touched by a divine realm
Your own childish heaven notion
a chemical belief

Tourism on the face of the earth
cave-dwelling communities
In love with the state of their own crude exchanges
all efforts to perpetuate their hierarchical cyclic monotony