make four wrong turns
and you’ll end up where you started
under dark skies listening
to a distant chainsaw duet
this is wrong turn country
many are too lost to leave
it’s easy to get turned around
in these mountains
notice no one ever says
in these labyrinthine valleys
because mountains are femmes fatales
for the manliest of trucks
you find them in unexpected places
wedged between trees
perched atop cliffs
being used for target practice
and every year brings
more ravens and bolder coyotes
but at the rate i’m shrinking
i won’t leave them much
my skin is getting loose on me
as if i’ve gotten lost in me
turned around
in my own meat sack
vaguer and less distinct
the more my horizon draws in