-

you feel like good times we haven't yet had

[bob schneider]

-

-
I feel good here. I like the silence, the blue. The walking, always walking, listen behind for stories, listen ahead for water. The footsteps behind me, the things they need, the things they're scared to leave behind, left behind. Them so young old, me so old young. We walk.
-
I like the maps, like unfolding a riddle I heard a long time ago, the ways the lines tell me everything, where we are, where we haven't yet been, where we shouldn't go. I like the meandering needle of this compass, so certain, always seeking out just one direction. Wish I could find a compass that points west.
-
I feel good there, when my toes are touching the edge of an alpine lake, when my skin holds that earthy sweat smell, when the roaring of the snow melt blends with the pine trees shouting in wind, fingers black, hair rough and tangled like rope.
-
I feel good putting a shelter over their heads, blowing until a fire leaps up from the ground, making food to fill them, finding water to slate their thirst. I feel good up late after them, talking by the fire with a brother or sister. We tell each other about our lives, the shape they've taken, what has to change.
-
I feel good up late even after that, when I'm the last one left, putting out the glowing coals one by one until it smells like cold meat, until it's just me and the stars. I never sleep when we're out here. The moon is too bright.