They came, I could hear them,
Laughter and shouting falling over
Tires scratching the lonely mountain road.
The car wound its way up to me,
It stopped and they got out,
A gang coming up for some rest.
They complained, they could not call
Their loved ones to tell them how beautiful
Everything was away from civilization.
I said nothing, I merely smiled and carried
Their luggage into the house, while
They brought the baggage.
I said nothing as I cooked for them,
They spilled drinks onto the bushes
As they fought with each other.
They complained, they could not get warm
Underneath the clothes they had brought
To look the part of outdoorsmen.
I pitched a tent for them,
A place to contain their human nature,
It was too cloudy to sleep among stars.
At night they went into town
Driving through the main street
Looking for wireless access.
They complained, they wanted to return
To finish the work they had come avoid,
Instead of filling time with wind and bird calls.
Previously published in Hawk and Handsaw.
Ben Nardolilli currently lives in Arlington, Virginia. His chapbook, Common Symptoms of an Enduring Chill Explained was published by Folded Word Press. Ben’s “Beowulf Versus the Spellchecker” and “A Perished Creature” are also in Reprint.
Author’s statement: “I am looking to give these poems a new home and new exposure, particularly since one was published in print and abroad. But more importantly, I want to see them in the same venue where they can now be compared and contrasted like different core samples taken into my past, since they were written at different periods in my life.”