You meet some of the most interesting and “normal” people on the trail. Sometimes you meet the not so normal . . .
He was a sight
In tattered camouflage bandana and bowie knife –
An emaciated Rambo.
He camped below the ridge in the trees
Watching me come in and set up camp.
He startled me
And told me he was dying and came to be alone –
But he sure talked a lot.
He sold me a plot from X-Files as his own,
Cancer causing metallic implant and all.
It was late and strange
We said good night and I slept soundly –
May ailing angel watching.
At breakfast he reported no sleep
For the lights going to and from the mothership.
Thanking his watch guard
I packed up and hiked over Constance –
Going on to the Dosewalips.
I never saw him again,
Just left him to his dying vigil.