Heraclitus said that no man steps in the same river twice, for the river has changed and so has the man, but I bet that Heraclitus never saw a slough, which is more of a permanent puddle than a river and even though a slough may flow after a heavy rainfall even that only lasts for a couple of hours and I haven’t changed since I was seventeen anyways, just started wearing jorts for the sake of practicality rather than irony, which means that moving rivers might be my chance at change. In the Eastern Sierra Nevada, you can walk uphill along the Owens River to Sherwin Creek to Laurel Creek until it’s just a leaky snowcap, and that makes sense, because it snows eight months a year there and three thousand feet below the water still runs cold, but what about the Ohio River, which is fed by the Muskingum River, fed by the Walhonding River, fed by the Mohican River fed by the Black-Fork Mohican River which was fed by me when I used to offer it a bucket of water from the tap every afternoon around lunch time? I haven’t lived near the Black Fork for five years and there are no snow caps to top it off, and it there is less than an inch of precipitation a week and what if all the rivers and streams gave out one by one until there was no water left except for the ocean straddling Miami and Venice, plus what the taps have to spare.
Brett Cortelletti is from Mansfield, Ohio. Currently, he is an MFA candidate at Florida State University. In addition to being a reader and a writer, he is also a competitive long-distance runner. Most recently, his work has appeared in Switchback Journal and Clarion Magazine.