The Backpack

motion.
moving through the greens
  and the browns
like a diluted mixture
of water colors
faster
thriving through
     the grays bottom below
(with stones flying
     hitting the leaf spring)

humid.
remembering tatooine
my shirt soaking
like a notebook
     clinging to its wet plastic cellophane
dreaming
trying to take me
through the highs and lows
sleeping and rocking
sleeping and rocking

fear.
like the chassis exploding
     breaking into a multitude
of parts
disturbing
my ribs are giving in
     my heart is bursting
bursting.

home.
finally home
     (for whatever it means)
    i thought of it through
the next eighteen kilometers