Finally the schedule clears
And I am ready with my humble guide
For the the open road
Of painted, curving lines.
I gaze out the right, rear window,
Examining the words
On the flat, horizontal landscape.
My eyes continue to spring back to their left corner
While the hypnosis fights a radio too slowly.
I ache to be there already.
At last this waking life melts
Into the author’s ancient dream.
Bad lighting and sleepy limbs,
No longer pain my weightless body.
Why do my eyes keep moving
Long after I have forgotten
The words I just read?
Everything I really see is still worlds, worlds away.