Stranded
I went up river in a canoe.
I had no paddles. I was all thumbs.
I scuttled her in the foothills;
the valley air chokes me.
I tried to drown but was too
resilient. I foraged for food.
I made water from jumble ice
in my seasoned stygian skillet.
I tried to sleep through it all
but became resistive to the valerian
root. I’m no Rip Van Winkle.
I’ve lived this way for 1,080 days. . .
I live this way still. . .
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