runs three miles a day. He doesn't
eat red meat, drinks neither soda
nor alcohol, and has a really awesome
beard. Yesterday, he went running
and collapsed after suffering an out-
of-nowhere stroke. The right side
of his body is immobile and he can
answer only "yes" and "no" questions.
I wish I could ask him
what he wishes he
would've done differently,
but that's not something he could answer.
And it makes me wonder why I've stayed
in this town for so long, what's kept me
rooted somewhere I've never really been
happy to be. Because you never really know,
You never know what logging truck or biopsy
or snowstorm or pine tree is going to
cut and paste itself where it doesn't belong,
and it makes me think of the places I'd rather be
and the raindrops I'd rather be wiping away
and the mile markers I'd rather be counting
and the letters I'd rather be sending
and the flowers I'd rather be giving
and the coffee I'd rather be drinking
and the books I'd rather be writing
and the songs I'd rather be singing
and the dog I'd rather be walking
and the goodnights I'd rather be giving.
Maybe it's time to drive
but I don't know where to go.
Baker City is nice this time of year.