The Mass of Creasy Springs

I used to go to church, but now,
I take Creasy Springs
Southbound around
The first northern ridge

Peppered with picturesque
A-frames and prepper sheds,
Checkerboarded with half naked trees and
Slumbering wild grasses, littered with
Roadkill and garbage, circled by
Birds of prey and opportunity.

You said

That brown is just a shade of Orange.
Everything looks orange to me on
Creasy Springs, even on
Overcast days. Even on
Rainy days, there’s a
Harley that sits at the end of a
Gravel driveway, uncovered.

Left to the elements
As the two rusted red gates
In the valley that was once listed
Impassable during high water,
Until it was revised to say
Impassable.

I am there as a concept as I am
Anywhere.
Grab a coffee,
Double shot, please, from
Hands well manicured.

I’m wearing sandals, socks, and jeans, and
I haven’t brushed my teeth.
Schlurp schlurp schlurp

I never used to be this panicky,
Right?

Schlurp schlurp schlurp
Moving so fast that I can
See the future and

How it creeps

Like ticks and leeches it
Creeps and
Overwhelms like a dozen dead arms on
My paralyzed frame

Raw and oversensitive
Motivated by fear and
Shame and

Wound up in recoil…
Peace in orange, peace in orange

Dream of lifetimes and
Meanings for people I’ll
Never meet,

Lost in everything
Saturated and warm and
Rustic

Lost in the
Meditative hum and the
Cage I came from