I sit near the outdoor store
where I bought my rucksack that would
carry my life across lands that I will never
set foot on but I stare down anyways, wondering whether
or not I’d ever be satisfied with where I am currency.
I sit near the store that guided me to
the correct hiking boots, that guided me
across Alaskan land; I felt the power of
my presence through the steps I left behind.
I still feel a part of my presence that was left behind.
I sit near the store just like I sat near the
Teklanika, with its brutality that was spelled
out in currents and the mighty force of the goddess
that swam along, and we waved, but we secretly wanted
to give her the middle finger. I sit near the store and
I think about how I failed.
Maybe I should’ve invested into something else.