In a place where water wends,
Flung out like twisting fingers on a thrust arm.
Past virgin skin and bone extend unlikely nails,
Brittle, filthy, and unsightly.
Embedded in ground oft-traveled by man.
Bent at each side,
Water flows through the fingernails like sewage.
Murky at the bottom, lined with indistinguishable debris.
Five streams without beauty,
Water no lips would allow passage,
Water to scorch the throat.
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