behind the foundry

there's a pavilion
by the river
if you can call it a river
behind the coffee shop
the third coffee shop
that I've counted
next to the old country antique store
that is still an old country antique store
even though the foundation is crumbling
and I've never seen another person in there
besides the owner -

there's a spot
on this pavilion
where the fence is broken
and I have a three foot wide
unobstructed view
of the water
as it rushes in the spring
after it tires of being snow
in the summer it skips and jumps
over rocks in its way
and by fall
it grows weary of traveling
it talks and talks and talks
then sleeps a while
until it wakes again next spring
and it all starts over again.

the water doesn't care
for troubles-
it doesn't have the time
for pain
or sorrow
it only wants to move
and roll
past me
on the pavilion
by the hole in the fence
where I can see everything

leaving me behind.