The only river I’ve ever known
was the Rio Grande,
it flowed from Colorado to Mexico.
In my recollection
it was a big river,
muddy and red.
I never went near its turbulant waters,
didn’t own a boat or canoe,
never even learned to swim because
La Llarona, or the crying woman,
wandered the banks looking for her children
and kept me sufficiently frightened
to stay away from the edge.
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