Connecting tissue minds
The gap between what I think
I’ve seen and what breezes
Past upon the track I use;
Fusing my paths with the
Maps made by heaven’s maker,
And scraping their lengths
And straightening bends to
Allow me to see more clearly.
Ridding hidden alcoves of
The damp tranches that gather
There and hamper financially;
Plastering over poking hand
Holes in order to forward me and
Fool my expectations; stations
Needing smooth places to prove
Their worth, and soothe the once
Burned prints of fingertips
When they reach to test perfection.
It matters not where this is, just
That friction kisses lightly and
Its fiction binds me tight, and
In its synthetic mitten I find
Time to flit along in peace.
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