we exchanged a message a piece and then took ourselves back to ghost

the only place i’ve ever seen a
“friends don’t let friends
eat farmed salmon”
bumper sticker out in the wild
(other than Sitka)
was in New Paltz.
i lived outside of
Holland Patent
for a few years,
in a stretch of rolling
dairy land outside of Utica.
Utica, an aging
spot of rust.
cheesemaking acquaintances
in Pawlet
brought me down
to areas around
and further on
to the odd animal
abusing perversion of
Saratoga Springs.
humans, so given to
suffering, and so
incapable of keeping
it from our surroundings.
northern Vermont and
associated New York locales;
Saranac Lake,
Tupper Lake,
border crossings
up near Malone.
Vermont was home,
though, if
such a thing exists.
i was just back there,
northern Vermont,
to watch hordes of
college kids and
white rich progressives with
“black lives matter” signs
in their green Burlington lawns,
and to roam askew
into the bucolic chronic
poverty of countryside.
if i’m able, i’ll never be
in one place too long.
from the mountain’s
point of view,
none of us are ever
in one place,
any place,
all that long.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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