keys to the city: folk heroes.
Recently, a man in an unquestionably intoxicated state swam across the Detroit River and back, or claimed to do so, and I became so fascinated by the folk hero-level of coverage his story received that I wrote a bunch of silly blank verse about it. To be filed under WIP: Keys to the City. Um. Yep. *drops poem and runs off*
The Legend of John Morillo
That was the summer the dust blew in -
The technicolour corn starch
And the more insidious black sooty cloud
That might have come straight out of a Dickens novel.
Into the river and clear across,
Because the water gleamed gold like lager,
To confront the dragon humming in the depths
Keeping the city awake at night,
Because he never made the swim team in college,
Because it was there.
Clear across international waters, John Morillo,
No bridge fare, no soggy passport, but glory,
A story in the Star
And a photo for proof.
"At least say that I made it, trouble or not,
At least say that I made it."
The Legend of John Morillo
That was the summer the dust blew in -
The technicolour corn starch
And the more insidious black sooty cloud
That might have come straight out of a Dickens novel.
Into the river and clear across,
Because the water gleamed gold like lager,
To confront the dragon humming in the depths
Keeping the city awake at night,
Because he never made the swim team in college,
Because it was there.
Clear across international waters, John Morillo,
No bridge fare, no soggy passport, but glory,
A story in the Star
And a photo for proof.
"At least say that I made it, trouble or not,
At least say that I made it."