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.