Writing "Life on the Mississippi"

for Mr. Twain

I wonder all the places you found him

writing "Life on the Mississippi."

In a dark-paneled library,

in a chair on the third-deck

of a paddle-wheeler,

or just at home,

inventing a confluence

of waters and events

only he could navigate.

All of these places, I'm sure,

and others. Up and down

the length of it,

4300 miles, he claimed.

A mind meant to explore

like Lasalle's canoe,

barely manageable,

and unsure what he would find

around the next bend.

Make your arguments,

doubt prescience,

but the man got it

a hundred years before

it was there to be gotten.

The keenest wit

and a white-haired detective.

He knew what got stolen

and tried to give it back.

So, flow on, Mississippi.

Crack a country in half

before it knows

it even is one.

Let's celebrate what there is

to be celebrated.

Start a raft down

the Ohio carrying

a white suit.

Start another down

the Missouri

with a grand mustache.

A bottle of whiskey

and a cigar

are already waiting

on a dock

in New Orleans.

August 9, 2016