I skipped high school graduation. Instead, my buddy Tim and I packed my car and headed west, to California, then north, to BC. We'd some adventures along the way. This is Tim's recounting of one of them.

On a road-trip with James in 72
us in his new Celica, Canada or bust,
we met a band of travellers
in the Uncompaghre wilderness near Ouray,
we shared their campfire
and told stories,
but I remember only one of the group:
his head was held in place
by a steel cage, neck and shoulders encased in plaster,
like a knight in fragile armor.
he'd broken his neck diving off a cliff
and he had a St Bernard as big as a pony,
who once won the strongest dog in the world contest.

He took us for a terrifying ride
in a jeep without lights
through the darkness of midnight mountain trails,
and I was laughing hysterically.

As we left their campfire,
they handed us a paper bag, leftover peyote buttons,
and probably instructed us, I don't remember.
I do remember the chewing, the swallowing and the vomiting,
like eating dried up dinosaur skin,
then each of us sought our sleeping bags,
and lived a night of separate journeys with mescalito
in the unfamiliar Colorado night.
James was pursued by a woman's lips in his dreams;
my visions, all lost.

At dawn we set out,
ready to move on from the Magic Mountain,
came to a cafe,
and a Botticelli angel bearing an orderpad came to our table.
both our hearts were lifted out of sleep,
one last joy before the miles of asphalt ahead.