Pocono Mountains, Pennsylvania

With Age a fattened ass and the sheer weight of compound fractures

alone at the knees.

Picking wild black berries is a thought that hides back in old shadowed closets. 

Those good old days when you decided that you could live among

those wild berry patches...

All you needed was some stream water

and a makeshift fort.

About halfway down the basement stairs the cooler air would surround you and little heads carved from coconuts would hang in the dark over the bar.

You'd sneak the torn lingerie pages from a catalog and all hell would break loose shining on your abdomen rolling down like those painterly seasons in the mountains.

Down there the channels barely came in through their cinderblock domain.


Ray Strickland


July 19, 2017

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