Sunday, June 26, 2011

Camping Trip. InapPoem #2

Camping Trip.

By Lara

Sophia Johnson’s flying out to Fiji in two weeks.

She’s so excited she gets loud and spittles when she speaks.

For their vacation Nate and Jess are off to see their ‘gran.

And as their luck would have it, that old broad lives in Japan.

The neighbors packed and left and flew to Paris late last week.

But we got stuck with Nature Dad, a crazy outdoor-geek.

My friend Alyssa’s family is going to Orlando.

But I’ll be sitting in a tent with dad who’s gone commando.

Last trip, it took a hundred hours to drive the whole way there.

And when I stepped out of the car, a bird crapped in my hair

Dad couldn’t set the tent up right, and we got bugs inside.

And when it rained my bed got wet and smelled like something died.

Dad burnt all of our hot dogs and we had to eat just beans.

So I found out what “rustic camping bathrooms” really means.

We were “getting back to nature”, and were ‘sposed to be alone.

But I could hear dad swearing about “bars” and his “smart phone”.

My dad insisted that we take a swim around the lake.

And that was just an awful, slimy, nasty big mistake.

My brother wandered onto shore, refreshed after his dip,

And he had a giant blood-smeared leech affixed to his right hip.

We went back to the camp to eat some more of dad’s canned beans.

And all that I could think was: “Ben Monroe’s in New Orleans…”

The peaceful wilderness was pierced with screams of “holy Jesus!”

My sister had a tick-- they drink your blood and cause diseases.

I couldn’t sleep at night because the nature’s really loud.

Mosquitos swarmed around my ears in tiny, buzzing clouds.

My brother told ghost stories and he terrified me good,

claiming lots of Unabomber-types are living in the woods.

I woke up soaking, dad was “cooking”, but the wood was pretty wet.

So I got a runny egg, and dad said, “this is all you get”.

Then we heard my sister crying-- she was tired of it all.

A mosquito bit her eye and it was swollen like a ball.

A bee attacked me. Turns out dad is bad at pulling stingers.

I got a nasty splinter in the webbing of my fingers.

My sister missed and wet her pants when we were in the woods.

My brother stole my driest pants and kicked me in the goods.

The trip was awful, yet I see it’s on the list this summer.

I can’t discern a way to use our break time that is dumber.

I’d rather go to Mexico, heck, I’d go to Pakistan!

But this year “our vacation” means I’m sleeping in the van.


Maurey Pierce said...

Was your Dad really commando? Yikes. :)

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