Journeys start with a cattle-prod jolt
& a kick in the soul --
not at an airport,
or a ferry dock,
or a taxi stand,
or at the curb.
By the time you've gotten that far,
you're already traveling.
By the time you've "decided" to go,
you're already traveling.
Travel begins earlier,
if in the dark,
because travel is not a dream,
&
only dreams start
in the middle of nonsense.
Real life flows down
a continuous and unbroken
stream of nonsense,
drifting at a rate slow enough
for your brain to make a movie of
rationalizations,
so that your brain can tell you:
that you're in control,
that you know what's going on,
that you know what will happen next,
&
assorted and sundry bullshit like that.
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Beautiful.
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