Roberta Feins After Li-Po's "Song on Bringing in the Wine" See how the Columbia River pours from the Canadian Cascades, races wildly to the Pacific, never returns. Fix your hair in the hall mirror, dear. Just yesterday, we were natural brunettes; this evening's color pours from a bottle. Never mind. An empty smile makes the moon cry. Forget our crass bosses, investment failures, losing Scratch Ticket. Let's just wave small plastic at the clerk, grab the Pale Ale, nachos, Ballard Bitter. Remember the time we dragged Jeff down Mission Street by his coat collar? Tho' waiting cans weep cold on the porch, we'll be telling that story long after the ping of acoustic sensors finds no salmon left to count. Turn up the music, let's dance to that song Ralph played on his tinny tape deck at Rocky Reach.

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