We’re not getting
out of here alive.
I don’t know why that truism
hit me hard —
upside the head.
Maybe it has some-
thing to do
with the Jim Harrison
poem I just read,
but I’m having difficulty
connecting mortality to porpoises
or even the purposes of porpoises
which is what the poem was
about, I think.
No, it was the one about
all the skulls, so many skulls
clattering in the wind
kind of like the heavy, ceramic
wind chime on the front porch.
It takes a pretty strong wind
off the Big Lake sweeping
down the dune
to make that half clack/half
thud sound like what I
imagine skulls
would sound like
bouncing
off each other
in the wind.