What strange ideas these creatures have. They think that they could stop the tide by throwing bills in its mouth. Well, the sea is my mother, and I know this much; she would swallow them smiling and spit them up in tattered rags.
They hold me in contempt, and I them. Let us see how they cage me up. They wish me languid and docile, gently flowing which ever way they direct me to. They say this. They say this until court is adjourned for the day, and then they slink back to their offices and squeeze my riverbank tighter and tighter, piling on building after building and razing my surrounding lands for development after development. They forget. I can be constricted, but never contained.
All Rise, the Judge says, but he does not command me. I am no man's waterway. Yet I exist to be taken from, it seems. What purpose do I serve? They ask me, what value do I offer? Did I need value to exist in the first place? I retort. I was old when they were still young. They will not tell me about value.
They forget to whom they bow to. These machine men, oil and money and greed pouring out of their opaque souls and into my heart, my chest, my liver until my body turns murky and wretched. They forget, while they smile without smiling and speak without speaking, that I am life itself. Let us see how oil quenches their thirst when they drain me dry.