pulsing modern technos
writhed within our minds
but there were no minds
this is why they are named minds

what’s in the backpack?!
tell us please!!

the top was already open
exposed to the elements

on top was a pair of hiking boots
bottoms scuffed a rusty orange
the filthy smudge of a railroad wanderer
sand clinging to the soles
the boots were wet, damp with water
was it recent?
but it had been raining for days
still, maybe.. one.. two days’ old?

under the mysterious boots
was a black t-shirt
clumped into a loose ball of fabrics
i pulled the shirt out of the backpack
and observed it was caked
with damp muds and sands
with a quick
..>SNAP!<..
i shook the shirt out
to cleanse its earthy contaminants

and the chipmunk
startled at the sudden motion and sound
vanished from view
a slight waver in the aires stilled over that rock
where the chipmunk had been just moments before

i grinned
i chuckled
i noticed the t-shirt was inside-out

the contents of the shirt were racy
sexual in nature
i’m going to spare you the details

and at the bottom of the backpack
was a collection of cans:
coconut water, orange juice, a single beer,
and an empty coffee cup
and i was puzzled because
this was not the abandoned backpack of an alcoholic