sitting astern
the red flag flaps erratically in the warm river breeze
stirring the still sticky heat of mid afternoon
the motor pounds rhythmically at the coffee-brown water
pushing expanding waves that fade toward the shore

a weary rusted barge slips past us 
carrying heavy pyramids of cement downstream
sleepy half-naked bodies lounge with feet on railings
or crouched motionless in doorless openings

toward the shore lie rock encrusted beaches of gray silt
a solitary dark-skinned fisherman teeters on a boulder
and skims the opaque surface ineffectually with a large hand net

the gorge sides are infested with a sponge-work of tenacious green
the source of the echoing fever-pitch rasps of a million invisible bugs
occasional plantation layers carve into the soil like contours on a map
providing fertile streaks for tall husks of corn and orange trees

rough cement shacks with iron-scaled roofs bury into the hillside
fronted by rows of sweat-stained shirts hanging out in the dank air
further up the frozen clouds of mist sit on the rugged ridges
slowing the progression of time and sealing the scene
in a quiet prehistoric majesty