Are the jeans cut at knees
Adding to the axe’s shine?
Thirty-nine hours to go
Is the big backpack
A friend enough to defend?
Twenty-five hours of glow
Is the pole tall enough
To catch star rays and hold on?
Eleven hours lounged around
In those pockets with some keys
Are there journals and a wallet?
Seven minutes until they make ground
Can the cup contain magma
And piping hot rain?
Three seconds left to fill it up