rebellious, jubilant, unabashedly
across four lanes
downhill in an affluent ghost town
the wind races through the hair that is woven tightly, threatening to liberate it
as I throw my arms out
like I’m at the front of my ship
the captain of my destiny, with my own Celine Dion soundtrack.
there is Jack-shit behind me.
Hovering above me are dots: gleaming balls of fire unencumbered by clouds
that I stupidly take for granted every single night
as I waste away
right on schedule
in front of synthetic blue light
searching for all that can’t be found
but I shove my world in my back pocket
until further notice
I am the captain of my time
the commander of my soul
and I give it
a much needed vacation.