And now, a week spent and our last night just reaching good-and-loud, we’re throwing darts with frontier aim, like there are bears at the door and we’re warming up for the main event. The beer and brown liquor speaking truth and the seven of us, rough-hewn and comfortable with the uncomfortable. Explorers, seekers, hunters, letting go of as much as we had gathered. We were hand-scrawled maps on bar napkins and midnight advice between rounds while the juke-box rambled and burned.
Park here.
Fish anywhere from there on up.
Can’t wait to see how many rods you bust.
You need a beer.