And Ken and Barbie Laughed

Time to start pumping poems and get in shape for April and NaPoWriMo.  So here goes:

 

Remember, as an athlete, like a lot

of other things, I suck. But even so

there are a lot of things I want to do

like hiking in the mountains. Yeah. I know.

A couch potato really shouldn’t be

caught dead pretending he could climb a hill.

A mountain is a death wish. Never mind

the altitude. The attitude that I

would have the strength and the ability

to climb a mountain, well just look at me.

And even forty something years ago

I was the same. But still the mountain called.

We weren’t prepared. But still we’d never have

the chance to climb the Rockies highest peak

in Canada again. And so we went

with dirty clothes, canned food, and brand new boots.

It must have been that we were newly wed.

The hiking, camping was spectacular.

We woke to ice bergs calving in the lake

and towered over ancient, full-grown trees

while walking to the glacier which we rode.

I grant you that it didn’t take us far.

We didn’t even go a quarter inch.

That’s not the point. Who else has ridden one?

The journey back was painful. Blistered heels,

stubbed toes, and every step was harder than

the one before. Who says that going up

is harder than the journey going down?

The only benefit to going down

is every step is closer to the end,

is one step fewer that you have to take.

We sang to keep us going. Sang out loud.

We were the only people on the trail

so why not sing out loud? Why not shout out?

Our marching took us to Pretoria

and back again. We counted bottled beer

that lined the walls; a hundred bottles we

disposed of, counting steps with every beer.

They kept us to our ragged, foot-sore march.

The canyon rang with spiders eating flies,

old ladies eating everything of course,

and dying at the end. And we were dead

or almost dead. At least we felt like death

when Ken and Barbie came around a bend.

Clean, young, strong, with perfect hair and clothes,

the pair took just one look at us and laughed.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s