boots squish in mud

as I drift 

to the time...

 

I had my knuckles wrapped in Italy

had to endure Steven Seagal movies

            endlessly on an Argentine bus

and hugged the Thai customs agent

 

our panel truck almost plunged

            a hundred feet into

            the Yukon River

            days after the improbable shout of

            “Hey, you got yourself a ride to Fairbanks!”

 

holding a rock, hitchhiking in Greece, to fake throw at

            the next car swerving toward and then away from me

 

the squish of my boots

is joined by a tiny

symphony orchestra

 

Played by 

three white petals

of spring’s first  

trillium blooms