log slide draft #2

Log Slide 2002

a sand hill. not a dune but a hill. a mountain. topped
with trees. mocking. I conquered that mountain. the
lookout, planks of wood for those less adventurous.
we, I, was not part of that group. follow the trail of
ancient logs before us. thirty-five degree incline.
slide down sinking sand to my knees, left my
shoes at the top. the view was…glorious
getting closer to the water, changes
from emerald to turquoise to
crystal clear, I could see
straight to the bottom,
my feet, three feet
under, wiggly
on rocks. in
the 11 am air
a cool breeze
blazing sun.
this is life.
messages
in the sand
I love kate
written
in rocks
long before
I arrived.
I left it
undisturbed.
I hope kate
is still loved.
Did the
sentiment
last longer
than the
love itself?
was kate
part of we
or only an
I, not told
that she
was loved?
pondering it
still, we, I, begin
the climb upwards
fight against sand sweat and
gravity. biting flies long sleeves
devastatingly slow progress, climbing
slipping, hands and knees, no hand holds
just me and the sand. an hour later I emerge
at the top of that sand hill, making it back to flat
land, three hundred feet above lake level. Triumph.