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I ride the river daily,
Slowly moving and congested.
Each ship has a destination,
Anxious to be there,
But the river moves slowly,
Without concern, not caring.
The river is now a parking lot,
Nothing moves,
The ships wait and wait and wait.
The captains listen to their radios,
Talk on their cell phones,
Tap anxiously on their steering wheels,
But nothing moves, or barely.
Their offices wait for them,
Their secretaries wait for them,
The captains sit in the traffic,
Helpless,
At the mercy of the river.
The cars start to move
And the river becomes a highway.
Traffic speeds by,
Appointments are kept,
And life is back on track.
Tomorrow I will ride that river again.
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