no monkey wrenches.

I miss the mountains and the cool clear creeks
I miss the roaming rio grande and its granduer
those cold nights among a silent sky and starry minds
happiness doesn't only dwell in a home, but also the spirit
the spirit of our nature, the instincts that crawl out once the frightening sounds of traffic and voiceless voices numbing neurons go zap and all that's left is us and our brotherhood.
so here's an ode to friends. to roaming travelers, adventurers, and conquerers of written paths, not of nations or ideological bullshit.

may We all find happiness somewhere. sometime.

 

"Come flow with me, Doctor, through the deserts of New Mexico, down through the canyons of Big Bend and on to the sea the Gulf the Caribbean, down where those young sireens weave their seaweed garlands for your hairless head, O Doc. Are you there? Doc?"