The new oil pipeline runs by the ancient
river. The river never breaks. It bends.
The pipeline breaks. Crude oil flows, its descent
in the river poisons all. “Let’s pretend
it never happened,” the fat man, bulging
his three-piece suit, chortles. “Let’s blame the spill
on the tribes,” the mayor snarls, indulging
the fat man. “Let’s throw ‘em in prison, kill
‘em where no one can see,” sneers the plump sheriff,
slouching atop his military tank.
“Y’all got a huge slush fund for lawsuits if
ya get caught after the fact. Ya can thank
me for that,”
slobbers the fat three-piece suit.
“Well then,” the sheriff wheezes, “let’s do it.”
Roger Armbrust
October 26, 2016
