After Paterson

Every night all
the words fall
into the water
and tho they try
to swim upstream
good fish they are
the current is too strong
and they tire and float
backwards and fall
over the falls
into the deep purple
pool below

And in the morning
somehow I don’t know
how they climb flashing
aluminum fish ladders
back upstream
and swim around
rocks and thru pools
and workout and brag
in running rapids
rest in eddies
and nicely nibble
at flies and worms
dangling dangerously
from sharp hooks

Until once again
they all frazzle
and drowse
one after another
slip and wiggle
upsidedown and sideways
and drift over the falls
in the middle
of the river
they fall

And I wonder
what if we could be
only one word
(what word would you choose?)
probably
I would want
to swim