There's No Bathroom For Me Here
Chitter-chatter around
blue cordoroy.
November eleventh.
Dates we've forgotten
to forget.
No longer safety
Nipple tassels
But a means to drag you down.
Always mesmerized by fire.
There are runs in my cuticles one fourth of the year.
And clouds are easier than cliffs.
But persistence in dipping oars.
But persistence in cracking
dry wood on sharp sticks
But persistence in commanding
smiles
Small diced lime-soaked onions
in sterile wardrobes
in level tent sites
menus unchanging
sunburnt noses
Persistence in always being
a morning person
sans coffee.
But sharing art
free of charge.
I cast my smiles downstream
Stare into stories
about castles purchased
Parisian flights to compensatory
grotto rock parties.
Of course, bankruptcy is always your theme.
So, I am anchored by my skirt.
Apron boa constrictor skillsets with a knife.
Three pendants hanging out,
I couldn't wear my drysuit.
I couldn't feel less sorry.
Dagny Deutschman is a river guide, writer, artist, and advocate. They live in Montana.