The Power of The Ancient Mariner and Talk Radio

 Water water, nor a drop to drink. The Ancient Mariner’s chant plays a persistent chorus in my head day after day after day like Small World lyrics. They play with each turn of the faucet. The tap opens and the lyrics peal water water like on an Indy 500 run into the deep sink hole. And it powers on, even when the need of use is done. Water that is. We all do it. Leave the tap open.

Over the last few weeks, I have struggled to frame water’s flow. Then yesterday while driving, I was ignited by an Iraqi Vet’s rap on public radio. He was a singer not, with more grizzle than charm. His war torn rat-atat-tat spurred my day to day to day head mime to rap rhyme on Rouse Pkwy#9.

So here we go: Water water it happens everywhere. A dazzling site over mountains, dams, rocks and rivers it seams and flows; the great white of water ripping helter-skelter contained and constrained. Wander your mind and roam under Niagara and high wire walking over Niagara, and imagine the pounding mist of Niagara forever. As in never doubt never ending Niagara like from the spigot on your sink, the head in your shower, the drip in your Johnny tank, the kettle as she blows, the pot as it boils, the ice as it cubes, the ice as it melts, the glaciers as they thaw to Al Gore to whom environmental indebtedness is ad infinitum.

Water. Waste. Imagine not a drop to drink with countless gallons running between cleansing of the fork, the knife, the spoon and cheese left on plates carved from the moon. An extra second or two or minutes three.   We all do it. As in mindlessly run to wash to clean for the dishwasher. Dish washer.

Will water forever rush over the falls, spill beyond the club’s shower stalls, be there to bathe the sand from your feet. Only yesterday we were kids drinking at the fountain in the park; forewarned that mouthing the spout would bring on the dark. Polio. Time walked in a cure and time walked in bottled. 

Plastic and contaminants: do this not that, buy metal containment to be pesticide free; now that’s the water we tweaked, the holder we made and baby makes three. Multi-millions to draw a fill, not from the drip but from a well, distilled, mineral or bubbly spring perched with a Fancy Nancy name and does water sold in NYC at $12.00 a shot seem madly insane? New age water bars.

Say there, stay awake at the sink, oh heed the wasteful gush, the flush and at the end of the day stand tall for a nod to less, not useless, in a water way today.

Looking forward to hearing your water stories of distraction!