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Get Me Up There
Get Me Up There
Get me up there.
I don’t care if the deer flies
bite me. I’ll catch them and
stick pine needles up
their asses so they fly
straight up till they drop.
Get me up there.
I don’t care if I sink
in a bog over my waders.
As long as it’s cool and the
brookies flash at a Renegade,
I’ll watch from a cloud of gnats.
Get me up there.
I’m starting to think
like the drone of lawn mowers.
Down here, the rivers
are full of tourists. I was
once a tourist. It wasn’t any fun.
Get me up there.
Down here, I look like shit
in shorts. My shins are all scars
from fifty years of dodging
deadfall because the stream
up there was worth it.
Get me the up there.
I’ve had it with sprinklers
and stinky dogs. Stick me
in a pickup shotgun, slap
a G & T in my hand
and get me the hell up there.