1985

1985 was a good year. I was a younger me, just rightly so. I think I may be a younger me this coming year also. I will walk fresh and smile just rightly so. Walk with me.

I remember the water,
and
wondering of its
silent, murky capture

oblation
in perfect
split

the incense
of life
in death

I remember,
salmon
oblivious
in perfect
determination.

loss
the only matter
in a world
full of help.

I remember
hikes
in crazy trespass
Cheechaco
to a practiced
brutality.

I remember,
moose
rumbling freight trains
on side-split
tracks
making perfect sense
out of nonsense

headless monsters
grazing
the green bottom
of terrified ponds
and how gravity
tickled
the flow
of their up rise
in frameless
masterpiece.

mosquitos
tents and Beamers
Melinda
and the history
that chased
me.

I met God,
that summer
in desperate
bargain.

I chased Katie
and met Frosty
on his way down.

I made bad coffee
on sand spits
an earthquake coughed up
in mock
laughter.

I made money
and spent
it.

then I returned.
but
not all of me.

I wonder,
do I wait,
there,
for myself?

~rick