Rolling Thunder echoing in the clouds, reverberating in the mist of humidity
Time flash, Nederland, birthday binge over, Rolling Thunder echoing
Down the Canyon to the Red Lion
Best sleep I ever had.
In that little cabin by the creek
Morris driven frenzy of climbing another tower
Finally abated Saturday afternoon, after Wednesday
If the clouds never came, we never would have stopped
We would have kept climbing
Another tower, another bridge, there was no too far

AT THAT TIME AND AGE,
MY CAPS LOCK LOCKED, GLITCH IN THE MACHINE
I HEAR HIS HANDS ARE ARTHRITIC AND CRIPPLED
From years of jamming them into crevices and climbing crevasses
I did one 5.8 climb, he did El Cap, and Denali
Trees on the mountain breaking my fall and ribs
Skiing on the tundra behind a snogo. Yupik talk.
Football arthritis and falling off ladders
Life happened.
Body starts to crumble and hurt.
Poor decisions?
Maybe….
But the memories of the hurt and how they were gained, remain…
Re gerts? Hell No. Love life. Live. Ho’oponopono.