Pushing its way through
the mass of water, the ferry
moves on. People, on the banks,
bathing, and washing clothes.

Waves rush in one after another, and
slap the gray mud, lining the banks. A flower,
abandoned by a priest, perhaps,
rocks with the water,
undecided:

To rot on the sodden riverside
or
to float away. .

//16th July 2002

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