The River

Beyond the fields, the fence posts, the country road - still dirt from its distance to the city - I know there's a river. Too far to hear, and smell, and feel in the air, but I can imagine those things. Familiar feelings, even after some time. I can track them down, dissect them, from what's lost in my mind. I could go there. There's no reason not to. I could live in those sentiments, but there is a fear that they've changed. A sound of traffic, the smell of rot. Feeling overdosed with humanity. I'd hate it. Having to replace what the river is in my head, with what the river used to be.