(cliquez pour fond d'écran d'oregon)
will you take me where
the water runs wild
off the mountainside,
before it reaches the highway,
far from humanity?
will you help me climb
each raggedy path
bordering on nothing
to the foot of the iceberg
where only black flies live?
i will pack a lunch for us,
nothing fancy, peanut butter
sandwiches on buttered toast;
we'll wash them down
with melted snow.
the air will be chilly
in april, but we will not
be cold because
we're using every muscle
to pull us over the rocks.
this felled tree
presents a challenge too:
once you are over it,
will you offer me your hand as i
climb on the first branch?
i need your help because,
as you well know,
my heart has been raging
past the legal age limit
and it makes me vertiginous.
yet, the mountain's call
with her running river
and verdant vistas
is stronger than any
maladie du cœur.
therefore, my darling one,
dress me up in layers
and drive until
nobody can see us
do the impossible.
i'll take my chances
with you behind me,
your hand gently pressed
on my lumbar spine, saving
me from stagnation.
