The moment we met we knew
we came covered with soot, sediment.

History. Like attracts like- were are old books of curiosity
with worn edges, artifacts containing

pressed wildflowers and recipes-
mixtures of grimoire and survival guide.

Two years later, during interviews and introductions, I’ll say
that first the timing wasn’t right- but here

I am, more than a thousand miles from Berea because that’s
where I found my treasure map. No one will rush there,

looking for their own- it’s too late.
Even if they conquer time travel and
beat me to the door.

We all have our tale of woe. A man with Jersey plates, who
believes in keeping plans and sticking to one’s word

sleeps beside me, a hundred hours of campfires
burned to ash now, five-thousand hours

or more to go. And the spines of our lives
propped together, the new entries clean, unknown.