We definitely went the wrong way.
Tall trees in front, above, behind us
turning into silhouettes, against
a pink and bright blue monster
streaming up with reaching tendrils pressed
above and over, peeking down at us
through one long rent - a gap
someone has scratched through thick black crayon wax,
along the bent and twisting trail
that trails behind
and bends ahead for miles and miles
- "how did we miss the turn?" I ask.
"there weren't any turns," you sigh
"But isn't this the way we came?" I say,
despite our upward climb. We know by now,
we should be going down - and soon,
we will be blind
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