Turn Turn Turn

make four wrong turns
and you’ll end up where you started

under dark skies listening
to a distant chainsaw duet

this is wrong turn country
many are too lost to leave

it’s easy to get turned around
in these mountains

notice no one ever says
in these labyrinthine valleys

because mountains are femmes fatales
for the manliest of trucks

you find them in unexpected places
wedged between trees

perched atop cliffs
being used for target practice

and every year brings
more ravens and bolder coyotes

but at the rate i’m shrinking
i won’t leave them much

my skin is getting loose on me
as if i’ve gotten lost in me

turned around
in my own meat sack

vaguer and less distinct
the more my horizon draws in

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