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.


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