mint on my pillow

we found a flat spot
above
the stream to camp.
someone had a can of beans.
this someone was someone I
was once related to
by marriage.
another person took his fishing
rod and caught
a catfish.
the ground was hard
before it rained.
we built a fire.
ate the beans, threw the catfish
back into the river
unable to get the hook
our of it's teeth.
we swatted
flies.
mosquitos.
someone chased a snake
away
with a stick. many people
screamed.
we could hear the animals
outside the walls
of our thin
tent, rummaging for
food, our keys
and wallets. scratching and making
noises, as animals do.
no one sang any songs or
strummed a guitar.
thank god.
when the sky
broke open the deluge
chased them all
away as our tent slid
down
the hill to where
the creek had become
a raging river.
a line of floating tires
stopped us from drowning.
we packed up what we
could and went to the
Hilton Hotel, where
they put mints on our
pillows. never again
did we speak the words
let's go camping.