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Astral Travelers
Some astral jumpers land inside their flying suits
like skydiving parachutists,
others are thrown naked into places
where thoughts are fig leaves.
Then they shoot off like toothpaste from a tube
dragging bodies behind them as afterthoughts;
bubblegum minds chewing distance and time.
Their infinite star-charts are parochial,
they map the contours of neighborhood blocks,
trace the four corners of circles,
stroll in the park in the radiant dark.
Mind voyeurs all who travel nocturnally
and vicariously,
folks who can’t stay asleep in their own skins.
Some of their exploits may be read
at supermarket checkouts,
or as tales told to the forever grounded.
Those body flyers and nightly roamers
who ask only that the stars weave
more ways for them to go.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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