glued to a never ending blue sky
stretched over white tipped mountains
melting cold liquid sliding down
backpack slung over my shoulders
indiana jones hat perched on my head
like a brightly colored macaw on my shoulder
where else would I be, where else would I want to be
I could have had friends or family who built machu picchu
eating lunches of ceviche and saltado among the llamas
saw it in person hiking through the andes along the inca trail
going up to 4200 meters at one point dead woman’s pass
panting like a dog on all fours
chugging what little agua I got left
trekking through the jungle, falling down a ravine
scraping up my knee bloody red
tearing up my favorite pair of hiking boots
wiping sweat from my brow with sweat from my forearm
dripping pools of golden sweat splashing on jungle floor
small birds wearing technicolor feathers
darting from tree to tree just above me
larger ones like giant condors soaring languidly
gliding over canyons in the warmth of the peruvian sun
snakes slithering through the grasses
down the hills and over the passes
the lost city now in sight
