Arrive in forty minutes

and twenty seconds

five dampened windows

five fine signs

Counting clouds and fibres

on emu headrests

all brothers are electric

my sister forgets this night

Our car is a searcher

made of cartography

my mother is always singing

“Let the wind take the steering wheel”

Popheniaa plays all night

my father sleeps...

Surrounding sites weave in

shakes and we are leaving;

passing all cities

that lack a clear way out

The tires flat and chugging

and we are all hugging

there is a felt love;

for stillness

for this place

Our home is a searcher

made of homo fabers

dreams cut in

the wheels let go

we will reach higher

to

all

soaring

worlds

Popheniaa plays all right

our breath consumes all light-eyes

we are awake all night