Superficial is the scar
that digs and tunnels.
We are passengers traveling on this mock route;
Carrying our self desirous luggage.
What frequencies we leave about.
Tie it like a knot in time
stitch after stitch
Scarred up, riddled.
An old eraser, uneasy in child’s hand
Rubbing just enough that it can’t be made out.
Are you awake or just receiving static?
Just a flicker of your surrounding?
I am in and out
Of flux.
© 28-Nov-2007 Sonja J. Phinney
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