23.2 (#53) River on My Face by Myron Lysenko

I don’t know what wakes me

the hip hop rhythms of birdsong

the sudden cruelty of the sun

or the waves suiciding on rocks

One moment I am asleep

and the next I am out of my tent

splashing a bit of river on my face

and arranging  twigs for breakfast

I walk from shadow to shadow

cast by the  mountains keeping me prisoner

and the excitement of an approaching car

turns out to be koalas mating

The idea of spending a few weeks

on my own in nature sounded appealing

when I wasn’t anywhere near nature

but now I’m drowning in it

I am not alone any longer

the taxation office visits at night

the girl I could have loved in high school

laughs at me from every shapely bush

The friends I’ve betrayed bully me

my mother tells me she knows how to fly

and my father scolds me for not 

keeping him alive a little longer