Who Is It That Routed The Susquehanna River Into Cayuga Lake?
There is a temporary traffic signal aside the dust choked roadway, tail lights number beyond despair. A memory that is far and near reveals the cross section of what once was a very large hill; Of that in which water soon shall spill.
Shall the city to the north be forewarned as the quantity of water will abide by the lakeside with failed restrictions of flow? The revenge of Montezuma is the highway that erodes at the overflow as it washes to the east. Thirty One is no longer fun; there are no hurried people to wait for the sun.
How high the water that meadows collide as buildings fall. Oh my God, there’s nothing at all. How shall our boats reach the Ontario Sea? There are no doors to hold water for you and me.
A shameless scar reveals itself after the sky clears from days of rain. Such a small stroke to prevent a small town pain; Who forgot to tell the people of the north about the new plan for rain? Who is it that routed the Susquehanna River into Cayuga Lake?
For the love of God; hold me, reassure me that this is not fate. Provisional maps have been dyed blue. At a town meeting, a hand raises into the air as it clenches into a fist and screams Fuck You! A shiversish, quick reply inquires; Did you not receive the postal card addressed to ‘Postal Customer ‘?