Dozing through the Andes
In the front of a crowded bus
Her unconcious uncurls, stretches, and crawls into his dreams
As her head rests on muscle and wool.
On his mind's ride the bus is guided by breath-
The exhalations of the black eyed panpipe player who boarded ten miles back.
His quick and airy melodies loop them through sharp curves;
And long clear notes send them down steep straightaways.
The musician is driver and passenger,
Navigating a bloodshot landscape.
He predicts each curve of the terrain
And meneuvers with gentle blows.
As his rhythms quicken their speed increases.
Outside, the grazing llamas fly by faster and faster
Until they fade away completely as the bus leaves the ground
And enters a foggy airway punctured by ragged mountain peaks.
She wakes to the smell of damp wool
Scratchy wetness on her face, his chest.
His tears or hers?
In the front of a crowded bus
Her unconcious uncurls, stretches, and crawls into his dreams
As her head rests on muscle and wool.
On his mind's ride the bus is guided by breath-
The exhalations of the black eyed panpipe player who boarded ten miles back.
His quick and airy melodies loop them through sharp curves;
And long clear notes send them down steep straightaways.
The musician is driver and passenger,
Navigating a bloodshot landscape.
He predicts each curve of the terrain
And meneuvers with gentle blows.
As his rhythms quicken their speed increases.
Outside, the grazing llamas fly by faster and faster
Until they fade away completely as the bus leaves the ground
And enters a foggy airway punctured by ragged mountain peaks.
She wakes to the smell of damp wool
Scratchy wetness on her face, his chest.
His tears or hers?
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