Burgenstock, just below the ancient lift to
Hametschwand, Switzerland's answer
to the Coney Island Cyclone. I cuddled a feral
calico kitten as I climbed -- he seemed
to welcome the warmth. The view
and the altitude battled for my lungs.
Three giddy, chubby Swiss nuns joined me
in hot chocolate, their giggles jingling
in time to the cowbells in the hills.
I was healing from the inside out, swirling
the sweetest air through those fresh wounds.
I watched the shadows slide waiting for my ride,
feeding time to the hungry hurt inside.
Now, I could cartwheel across that board,
with spare breath to kiss you, true check mate.
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