driving to and fro in silence these days, the familiar country landscape with its repetition moving by me in a peripheral blur. the mounds, the radio tower, the hand-painted sign for honey, the terriers greeting the day. i turned toward them to catch a glimpse at 60 miles per hour. 1000 cranes point the way, and the death card, while Latin guitar emanates from the room next door.
i float. pluto enveloping me, saturn beneath, and uranus is the sky.