we didn't shoot buffalo

in lieu of a regular blog (i have a frozen sausage on the stove and this doesn’t seem to be safe or working), i’m posting a poem i read for my poetry class tonight. i changed some of the names because, well, i’m a sissy and some of the original characters might read this someday. but otherwise, here it is.

Oregon Trail in Three Shades of Green

I picked the five toughest boys I knew
and I was a doctor and I bought the
biggest wagon.
We set out from Independence in late April
but Trent died of dysentery and
our supplies were low because we were
eating too much for dinner.
At Chimney Rock all we could shoot
were some skinny little squirrels and
Nick shot himself in the foot and our
pace must have been too fast because
morale was really getting low.
Then Nick died after the gangrene set in
and nobody would trade with us for food.
Things picked up a little in Fort Laramie.
We celebrated Fourth of July and
Alex played the fiddle.
Two days later, though, we crossed
the Green River and the wagon tipped over
and we lost three sets of clothing, one oxen yoke
and Alex.

After that, Bill died of a broken heart
or maybe it was the wounds
from the hostile Indian attack.
Jason and I tried to raft to the Dalles
but now hes some where down the river
along with my wagon and all
the livestock and me.

okay, now i’m going to make sure i don’t burn the house down. i need to figure out a better method of defrosting meats.