hunter’s cabin

driving into snowy off roads
with ocean lake & ruff pines sleeping
and god mountain sleeping
the soft pretty voice of the woman
making me black coffee on the stove
looking like buffy sainte-marie
and the deep logger voice of the beer drinking
wildwood flower-smoking woodsman
neon orange & camouflaged hunters
gritty faced all over the roads
no radio, lulled by our breath
and sun
rifles on the couch and wall
lifeless deer hanging shadow stretched
on a pole in the yard.
you’re so quiet
you’re a runner
you’re my sidekick

the voices assessed me
all I needed was soft pretty
woman’s voice, woodman’s voice
fire heating
the thick logs
booze locked up at the gas station
on sunday morning

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