Astral Travellers
Some fly in their jumpsuits,
others are thrown naked
to a place where thoughts are fig leaves.
A few conjugate dots of light
into a body-language.
Many shoot off like toothpaste from a tube,
tugging slinky bodies behind them.
Star charts are parochial,
they map the contours of rumpled sheets.
Some run in the park with sleeping dogs.
Such travelers are hummingbirds riding rodeo bulls,
New fliers leap from sinking bodies,
fledgling wings flapping.
They fly open-mouthed and wonder
if the rest of you will ever make it.
~~
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