camping

Many times,
I've kissed lightning
without searching
for sockets

in a sunny tent,
from an open door,
on a creaky swing,
seduced by

a smoky, pine scent:
the pheromones
of patchwork
America.

I almost died --
gasping like a
windchime in
a warm storm

devoured by
nature's stings;

yet, I can't help
but bite my own
lips.