Dying

is a sleek routine

while you're still alive,

but later just a statement

of town folks and savages

The Sami descendants I meet

in the remote settlement of Vuottas

make their lives in Gothenburg

and Skellefteċ,

but as I bike through

during their summer visit, late in July,

they gather for a group picture

among their long gone grand parents' houses,

meticulously well kept

Next early morning

the thunder rolls in

over the village of Niemisel;

our bed a floating time capsule

we call The Great Ship of Dreams

Gushes of rain and one mosquito

broadcast a talk show

as the house holds its own,

while vanity whispers in the walls

The gravel roads of yesterday's 114 km (71 miles) bicycling

have a long experience of distances,

their long logics infesting the wilderness

with ways of approach and the means of going;

the intimidating lumber trucks' giant dust clouds

rising

over the Northbothnian conifer belt horizons

like ditto

from the Wild West's coach and six stagecoaches

across the prairies of olden