14:17, sitting on a public deck across the street from the Yukon Territory museum, jade green river flowing north.

My goal in life — to be someone I’m not, a moving target, pretending for the sake of pushing people away from me, keeping a safe distance.

White Horse is not my town, a temporary station on the road of life, the invisible traveler, unknown, leaving no footprints, watching gulls, swallows and people, the river churning poems and short stories, feeding, flowing, freezing, following paths cut by its previous incarnations.

I do not exist. This vessel blocks the wind temporarily, shades portion of a wooden bench from the midday sun, a mannequin for ready-to-wear clothes.

These words are a hidden record of a time that no longer exists. Adieu.

Hello again. Just gone for a moment.

Sat in the Baked Cafe, drank Real Brew Outrageous Ginger Ale, patrons reading books, drinking coffee, enjoying the warm weather…a lot of people with backpacks in town.

[Thanks to server at Westmark restaurant, Nathaniel from Nova Scotia; Robin and Bronwin at MacBride Museum of Yukon History; HA tour guide from Univ. of Florida; North End Gallery artists, Jim Robb, Richard Shorty, Nathalie Parenteau, Robert Postma, Fritz Mueller, Romy and Rene Jansen, Lynn Blaikie; Mike and Louise (from South Africa), of the local artisans market; Noah and Patrick of the real Canadian Superstore; Yula of Dirty Northern Public House; Aileena and Anne at front desk of Westmark.]