I don’t know who put me here
in this storm with only my umbrella.
Who would have done such a thing?
I hear a voice saying,
“When it rains it pours.”
Though I seem to be walking,
I don’t get anywhere beyond
the side of this cylinder.
All I can do is hope I stay dry
as I spill salt behind me,
though it’s not clear if I know
I’m spilling it. I never look back.
Sometimes I’m tipped upside down
and then righted. Does that
ever happen to you?
I am the oldest little girl in America.
I’ve been in place here for more
than 100 years, though I never
show signs of aging. Every
decade or two, however, I do
change my hair or my clothes.
I have been through many wars
but show no scars nor
stop smiling, though my salt
is distilled from decades of tears.
