Day 21: Dobject's Lake

They gave me the bike without gears,

and told me to keep up

or I would probably get lost on the sweeping trail,

and I huffed mosquitoes and dry-sweat

a fetch behind them with a third of the crane

bungeed on the white street bike.

I think we’re getting really close! Nik called somewhere the thick hemlock woods.

In miles the trail cut through someone’s field

of soybeans and weeds and a cavernous stone house

couched in a bed of weeds and the fallen roof, and we tossed the four bikes

to the sunbathing flies for a look.

Yeah, we’re getting really close he remembered.

I suffered under the sun and my sodden jeans,

And wondered where or if they packed a drink.

Nik wanted to film something in the house, but before he could invent a reason

the owner stumbled out of the field and shooed us.

Not too far away he said.

The lake

was a duckshit pond and a dock raft

deep into Carry

for blisters on my legs

and gnats in my eyes.

and we drank a root-beer cream soda

and opened a bag of chips,

and turned around

because no one remembered

what we wanted to film.