The River

The river widens southward in its trek,

Greying as it runs from below the hill of the city

Driving as an arm to the sea
By things which are measured and
By things which can't be measured — then

Drops to the mouth of Narraganset Bay.

The water's color is perceived the way it is

From particle absorption, certain minerals,

And by reflections in the atmosphere, greying 

From sediment kicked-up from the bed's silt.

Testimonials are written above its banks

From the hill-clinging tenement houses where

My friends were living at my side, where

Everything was written in indelible text.

I came to know the river with them,

From the foot of the hillside where

Before our time, railroad tracks were laid
Running north to south from Boston to Providence.

We went to the river to smoke forbidden cigarettes,

And throw harmless stones into the running water.

We rode bikes, played ball, disobeyed or mothers and fathers, and

Maybe I'll go down there tomorrow to hold hands with their ghosts.

Could be I'm doing that now.