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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
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
john and marty gather wood
build a fire that pops and explodes with laughter
they tell the sons
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

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

Next in Pays de L’eau…

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