On Top of the Mountain

A uniformed man packs me in a glass box,
Sends me zooming peak-ward.
I quickly ascend
The glacial signature.

Stepping out
I feel the slow thrust
Of epochs-old
Sediment
Below
me.

Huddled in the pines,
Fleecy couples carve their names with pocket-knives.
Ground squirrels stay fat and happy
Hunting for fumbled snacks.

Away!
A rock gashes my knee bloody
As I clamber over it.
Now there’s a souvenir.
I stumble into a clearing
Where a man feeds two dollars
To a Coke machine.