Estes Park

 So high up hanging with the weather changes. Still pines and ravagey aspens like every watercolor portrait for the time of fall. Crashing elk into chain link fences, and wagons with kiddos going up the hill. Some measured vacation relaxing between the responsible and the chaotic; cable tv. The sound of meat and veggies on the fire, roasting toasted grilled charred smokey. We perform the caraseoul around the Target parking lot, while mom shops; beats double shopping carts in a safeway...or does it? Vomit and apples down a windy road with crying. The menu. Appetizers. Cocktails, del taco. Cry some more in the shivery night papa, youre welcome. Sleep tight little children, bottles and blankets and beer for the dada wine for mama. Hot Tub Time Machine. Whisper gentle in the lamplight, and from the table to the couch eyes close sleepy in dreamy tired aches. I love you, i love you. This is vacation. New kind of vacation.   Some complex grandeur adventure but something always falling, and falling. Without partners theres lone wolf territory where little cracks turn to chasms and without the backup no repair. So rest easy. I got you. You got this. Each other, no others.