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6.
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Three Pink Clouds
Three pink clouds in a baby
blue sky,
and beneath them rolls the creamy Ohio.
The creamy Ohio rolls, in delectable shades
of caramel and mud, through the green fields
of Kentucky and Indiana where the sun sparkles
on the moistened fields like gold.
The green fields of Kentucky
and Indiana sparkle
like gold in the sun and give birth to the people
who live there. You, in Indiana, with your salty
black beard and green eyes that bug like basketballs
beneath the crazy Indiana moon. Me, in Kentucky,
smiling in my sleep, wet from the river and pink
from the sun, with soft salmon bones, and yet still
your inferior.
That's the way it goes. The
Ohio sliced these states
apart like a loaf, she slid her brown body commandingly
between them. She sent out her ghosts to the north and the south
spreading rumors of her choice, only to insure that your
long arms will never reach across the river to touch me
everywhere as your brother.
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