Roll On, Teanaway

Three Nights, two kids, 1 hubby, and our trusty '87 Westie. Oh, and the ingredients for Tuna Surprise and Turkey Chili. We were holed up at the West Fork Teanaway River C.G.: no fees, no hook-ups (well, not the RV kind), and no running water. 

We mingled with the masses, broke bread with the burly. 

It was a Memorial Weekend of miscreants. The sky gave us 

puddles, wet wood. It was the domain of the monster truck,

of dogs named Chunk. In the few places not trampled,

lemonweed and Lomatium. Lupine.

It was an American holiday. Dynamite and Coors.

In the morning, a few smoldering fires,

a few limp flags. 

I didn't write or read a word of poetry.