For she was the lake

 because she was the lake

bought and paid for filled by clouds algae and tourism
the lips shore
the gritty grainy sand

confused overspoilt owners
blue piercing sky
find it on a map

the small village overrun
trinkets in colors and sizes
these excited deprived eyes
empty hearts over stretched smiles

misplaced politeness and mild oblivion
tourists bathe and sabotage their minds and sigh

because she was the lake

not fully clean but not dirty
narrow long beaches
post card color lotion opiates

Tourists desperately waddle
inflattables covering them and their children

she was the lake
going nowhere sitting in her own sacred puddle
tourists nervously test the water

army helipcopters explode above it

the giant fork boat propellor shoves sphaghetti aquatic grass

she was in fact the lake
deep enough for mystery and confusion

cool off in the meadows my lost donkey nursed a hurt leg

walking so many hours lopsided along the narrow side of the shore
the woman sideward glances fireside warm and merry
but the sand grainy and treacherous

only thinking of her for she was the lake
and whatever the lake laps at it owns for a while
whatever falls into the lake festered by algae

the sand gives way aiming ambling objects into the water
the way she craves it

fish use the shores and seasons to build those thousand schools
her cheeks flush tourists splash and fisherman pout
exploding helicopters spin eternally over the lake

burning man radioing for mayday
sun shooting through kidnapping his rigid spirit
his body meant for the depths

And she just looks up as blades and steel split and fly
eternity positions itself conversing with her
convincing to let it all replay another trillion times

daylight glint of optimism
giving thanks for a few thousand years of uninterrupted reign
evening darkness somewhere on the other side of the funball 
cursing in the cool night air that wasn't