fizzled coke cherry bombs
floating on the ever-rippling waves of
a one in ten thousand lake
among the pines of a minnesota dock.

is this my life?



walking through overgrown homes
of insects, deer, bears, raccoons,
and any other creature "just passing through"
makes a person wonder
if it's better just to get lost in the woods
or head back to civilization for round twenty-three
against the world
breaking trash cans over my head trying to live as I see it
and see it as i live.


we make amends for things we never did,
or at least,
only did in the eyes of someone else who apparently
knows more than we ever did growing up,
but we never even get the letter close to the mailbox
because we
or at least I

would feel too good making things right
and connecting
to someone i never really liked.


is this the way to live?


the smoke of a cherry bomb
dances in the wind
until it becomes an invisible ghost on the lake.

time to go inside.

07/15/2008

Author's Note: i've been reading much Hunter S. Thompson and part of this, i believe, is his cynicism about Nixon pouring out of me in other facets.

Posted on 07/15/2008
Copyright © 2024 Jared Fladeland