Disappearing "Out There"

This is my dream.

I'm moving.

I'm going where a man can live by his own sweat and wits.

The mailman will need a pack mule.

Not that I want so much mail, the opposite being true.

Walden Pond would be fine, but it's too close to Cambridge.

I want to be "out there."

Send a commercial jet over once in a while (just the contrail) to remind me of what I won't miss.

I want to fish, hunt, grow, and otherwise survive in beautiful, undisturbed isolation.

I'll learn to know the local birds and teach them to know a non-hostile man.

I'll enjoy the music of their songs, and the chirping of crickets by night telling me the nighttime temperature without a thermometer.

I'll gaze at the night sky, that myriad of stars free from city glare.

I'll lean into the wind and welcome the storm.

I'll cook, when I want to, eat off large leaves I can throw away, drink from the stream, bathe leisurely, read/write/compose when it's light, and sleep when it's not.

Companionship?

Only with someone who wants the same.

Any takers?

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Copyright 2014 Demas W. Jasper All rights reserved.