Pays de L’eau #3 by James Morehead
July 3, 2011
Pays de L’eau #3
by James Morehead
i taste the air drinking it deep delicious gulps rich luxurious dean i want to take some home with me in a jar and drink it when the smog grows too thick i feel silence slience from sirens tire skids engines horns t.v.'s machines the silence of wind through leaves paddle splashing lightly like raindrops i feel space wind and sunshine i cannot feel walls above me or around me i look for steel or concrete or oil i see only blue water rippling and green forest waves my senses absorb everything remembering savouring learning ----- john and marty signal us to shore a campsite hidden between forests my arms feel limp sunburned the shoreline swarm of insects greets us we spray each other with a green stench it smells bad to bugs dad says (it smells bad to me) i feel hungry i'm used to saturdays of pancakes and cartoons not burnt skin and bug spray the fathers cook confused john and marty gather wood build a fire that pops and explodes with laughter they tell the sons us to explore dinner tastes like ashes and smoke every drink of bug juiœ seems alive i've never tasted food so wonderful i've never felt so tired we compete for clear land our tents appear one by one tiny pyramids among the towering trees unwrapped my blankets and pillow of clothes wrap me the solid uneven rock bed beneath me no place for monsters to hide dad snoring beside me i can't hold myself awake i leave the darkness ----- the clanging morning bell has followed us wakes us dad and i sit inside the tent listening to rain i realize now there are no umbrellas or roofs or subways we will canoe until the sun setting hints darkness wrapped thin in vinyl slicks
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