take any exit that leads beyond the line of trees that guards this highway like occupation soldiers past construction zones and horn blast hysteria speed trap surveillance and brake light surprise toward the low-lying sun that marks the horizon like a lidless eye or better still—fly for the sake of rising above the power lines and glide around awhile until we've had our fill of land and sea and sky and find a place to land in the paint-peeled rafters of an ancient fading barn or up on blocks, perhaps in a dilapidated car let’s sink down deep into the sleek back seat like a pair of nesting pigeons considering the significance of a universe that holds the last two secret stars
Originally published in Forth Magazine