to the four men who drunkenly tried to commandeer my canoe from my truck in the dark of the night , you all seemed very real. maybe we have met, somewhere along the road, your puffy vests and loose jeans. it was p.a.t who gave you away, her length was off and her hull too flat and shallow. why did I imagine you? approaching my home and cutting my lines. touching my freedom and hoping to steal it away, i'll keep you in the corner of my thought, i'll know your reality and I will be wary of you, but I will not fear you. you cannot have me.
the leaves are turning on the number four.