path: root/river/100-lines.river

100
lines
whenever
you
call
me
friend
i
fall
down
on
my
knees
and
cry
because
i
know
it's
the
only
thing
never
to
happen
before
in
this
life
is
something
you
can't
see
it's
a
pillow
under
a
hook
shot
i
want
to
tell
you
something
anything
but
you
are
there
and
i
am
here
we
are
trapped
inside
ourselves
and
the
distance
is
too
far
you
are
something
that
i
would
tell
would
be
nothing
before
too
long
you
are
not
the
finisher
of
dreams
you
are
the
beginning
of
nightmares
or
waking
but
i'm
not
sure
which
this
letter
is
for
you
in
the
future
it
will
lead
you
on
the
path
of
goodness
or
of
rightness
or
of
wrong
people
and
right
meanings
or
the
meaning
will
be
hidden
or
wrestling
the
demon
i
will
have
become
restless
under
the
starlight
it's
too
bright
here
to
think
the
negatives
would
be
pitch
black
darkness
of
a
silver
mine
there
are
no
trees
here
where
have
you
been
where
are
you
now
i
am
no
longer
here
or
there
you
are
anywhere
or
are
you
up
in
the
clouds
is
a
ghost
he
is
white
and
blue
like
a
cloud
he
paints
with
his
teeth
he
paints
the
rainbow
before
midnight
that
you
can
see
from
your
window
staring
out
under
the
sunlight
through
the
gauze
curtains
over
the
high
mountain
far
away
that
is
covered
over
with
snow
past
the
rivers
and
forests
that
lie
awake
under
orion
hunting
the
bull
that
runs
forever
just
out
of
his
reach
pointing
the
way
for
the
two
of
us
to
join
together
in
song
or
dance
or
that
other
thing
and
sing
the
grinch
down
off
mount
crumpet
his
heart
breaking
his
chest
thumping
with
the
beat
his
little
dog
too
running
running
with
the
bull
full
of
laughter
and
blood
he
can't
see
it
anymore
because
it's
become
him
we
are
trapped
he
says
we
are
trapped
in
ourselves
it
turns
out
that
all
along
it
wasn't
you
or
me
but
he
and
her
or
her
and
him
or
he
and
he
or
she
and
she
or
they
even
they
tell
us
that
nothing
has
happened
even
they
know
that
it's
a
big
joke
one
more
thing
to
know
before
the
death
we
are
crying
like
crocodiles
before
their
loved
ones
coffins
we
are
bellowing
with
grief
like
buffalo
on
a
berth
of
wild
oxen
we
are
wailing
our
clothes
are
in
rags
we
want
we
want
we
want
but
never
can
we
get
what
is
it
we
don't
know
what
it
is
but
it's
something
it's
anything
it's
too
many
people
or
not
enough
it's
too
few
trees
we
need
more
beavers
to
build
riverdams
we
need
grapes
too
or
plums
from
the
ice
box
or
an
ice
box
even
would
be
nice
all
i
have
is
this
cube
isn't
that
right
or
is
a
sphere
a
cube
a
donut
a
coffee
cup
your
hands
in
mine
yes
that's
right
now
bring
the
water
to
your
face
clear
and
cool
and
full
of
something
what
is
it
wanting
or
yearning
i
can
see
in
your
eyes
they're
clear
now
they
are
as
clear
as
a
running
stream
or
the
sky
that's
clear
right
or
the
water
that
is
in
the
bahamas
because
i
hear
that's
clear
you're
as
clear
as
the
sound
of
a
bell
you're
as
clear
as
the
braying
of
horses
you're
as
clear
as
the
glass
in
god's
eye
and
i
i'm
as
dull
as
an
ox
plowing
through
fields
in
his
yoke
i'm
as
dull
as
clouded
amber
i'm
dull
as
you
find
me
tonight
after
dinner
i'm
reading
the
crossword
you're
sitting
beside
me
you're
watching
tv