by Trevor Allred
My young face,
I am 13, grimaced
in the dust. I am walking
with a pack 3/4 my body weight with people I don’t know
how to talk to.
I wish something was different; I don’t know what.
It is night at 12K feet above sea level, and I am thinking
of the brunette girl I passed by today.
She had a smile that made me happy like sleep
and sunglasses that hid her face. Where did she go?
What’s her name? I think of her
as I fall asleep, and, when I wake up,
I find only the moonscape of the high Sierras
and a rising sun.
My fingers are too icy to use.
Patting out the setup of my stove for breakfast,
I want to hold something warm, I want something
to break the stone
in my hands.
Trevor Kaiser Allred is a writer and arts enthusiast. In 2016, he was a poetry judge for the 9th Volume of DASH Literary Journal and has also been published in Ant vs Whale. An advocate of the literary arts, he works with 1888 to grow the community in Orange County, California and beyond. Keep in touch with him @TrevKAllred or learn more at TrevKAllred.com.