I dream of seeing the ice flows

of Niagara once more,

of seeing the reflection

of a youth long since departed

and the memory of a Wendy Burger,

wrapped against the cold wind

blowing down and across the chasm

of a separated land mass

and different train of thought.

 

I long to hear

the continuous sound

of nuclear explosive water

crashing eternally against

the rocks shaped by Time

below and the droplets of water,

rising off the pounding foam

and landing with daring precision