I never tell the truth.
I never describe the bear.

People assume, when you’re quiet,
a fast-paced current races inside, filled
with idea-scaled trout bracing to jump
over the waterfall,
out of your mouth.

My shallow river dug itself
an inescapable canyon.
Many man-made constructions
hinder its flow, draught
reduces the strong tributary
to a weak capillary.

Survivors can’t withstand
the pink, ursine guardian
who dwells on the waterfall.
He forces down what he deems
anything with a chance
of damaging the landscaping.

Erosion builds;
one prod produces a mudslide.
Natural disasters expunge
artificial obstructions;
future floods become 

The bear will take time
to tranquilize and tame.
A river finally undammed,
allowed to flow,