5: Thursday

Last night we fell in lakes together
obscured by the moonlight and haunting
trees, remember that dead forest and how
we left our pants and shoes in the mud,
wandering and singing in nature, in the woods of
Tennessee with no one within earshot, or miles,
just the coyotes who scoured our camp for
beef jerky and trail mix, tossing aside the coconut
shavings, we crawled up the backbone of Virginia
after a hearty southern breakfast and I waved
to a truck driving girl and she blushed so innocently
and where in the northeast suspicious highways could
you say that would happen? I finally saw the Shenandoah
in the drivers seat and although Joe hates the state you
have to admit that dandelion yellow sunset I saw in the
rearview was something you've never seen, where in
Staunton we had some homemade BBQ and just barreled on to
West Virginia, Maryland, and homey Pennsylvania except the
state park was closed so we cut down a tree (Dave pushed it over)
made a fire, ate some beans, spaghetti in meat sauce,
and curled up like caterpillars in our sleeping bags with Dave saying
he was gonna drive like that in the morning and Joe
wishing his hammock was hanging outside, and we dreamed
the night away in the car we'd driven 2,232 miles.