In lieu of the cabin I drive two hours north and climb a small, old mountain in the woods
Feels good to propel myself uphill
Highbush blueberry magenta in fall
Yellow-orange tapestry draped over gullies, around scree fields
Black striations curve through glacial rock
Up here there is no stiltgrass or mile-a-minute
The forest breathes easier
The sports fans keep checking the scores
The fantasy is engulfed in vines
Finally I am reading again
The drill points arrestingly from the top of the dresser
Crying out orgasms on the basement couch
I'll take one schnoodle to go, please
Be advised of drone restrictions and the general firewood quarantine
I don't know how to release this hurt
I will always know how you were willing to treat me
Of course, I'm no angel
I drove all day. All day I was droving.
