Prodigal Whatever.

[Bunx]

Weird, feeling
called to my roots.
Prior to being
bound back.

The Missouri,
or Bob Marshal?
Anywhere four wheels
could drive.

*That night with my best friend,
speeding through
forgotten logging roads
listening to John Williams
Jurassic Park first edition CD,
lighting on tempo with crescendos
on cue.
Laughing, eating
our smoked Rainbow Trout
caught a day prior.

I miss this...

Tracking York
or my Great Great Grandpa:
"The Snake Medicine Dealer."*

Anywhere besides
being stuck again in
Great Falls Montana.
With no car.

This town bleeds blue,
military, corporate,
normal.

It should called,
"excessive dam".
Damn................

My friends though
additionally
myself are myths here.

It is funny I have poems
about them.

Prodigal Whatever.