The River Parody

Like a full regiment of ghosts floating tranquilly over the water,

the morning fog retreats to the banks of the river,

Thinning its ranks to reveal a majestic landscape.

The trees punctuate the soft light like prison bars.

The water is flat, a pure reflection of the sky,

like looking down into a subterranean parody of our world.

A nearly perfect imitation, betrayed only by frisky river creatures.

I wonder absent-mindedly whether this alternate underworld

features a version of myself,

getting ready to go to the same job in a similar haze,

or if he has another occupation entirely.

It is a parody after all.

Maybe he is a film critic or a meteorologist.

I wonder if he is happier or sadder than I.

This scene opaquely framed

through the frost on my windshield.

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