River Solid

Campfire roaring. It’s dark and there’s nothing we can do. There’s something about the woods and the water that we lost somewhere in the city-life. Or perhaps we sold it. But a good trip to get lost is the best way to find yourself.

I’ll kill when I’m hungry, I’ll drink gasoline when i’m dry. Buy fanciful things when I have money, shake hands with religion when I die.

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Filed under non-fiction rambling, poetry

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