static pressure

Behind the wheel 

I weave threads of silk

between transports and caravans,

dodge bullets that glide under the dash

into a sea of stars.

You have a heavy foot like my mother

You’re going too fast

The underground lurches,

squeals to keep up with the 

churning above,

tensions and intentions slip

out of alignment.

You’re going to be late

Rushing into the station,

passenger train devours tracks – 

Welcome to Tuesday

Papers, please

We’ve arrived early

I left my head in the clouds,

I can’t go back

Listen carefully,

jump with both hands:

Hit the target 

catch the second – 

I jump

I knock 

on the door

the minute hand misses,

I land

On the floor,

trapeze artists swim through the air above

I am getting up,

on the floor,

getting up,

Hurry up

Get a grip

Tidal waves slip through my fingertips

Get it together

The moon and the earth I grasp with each hand

They pull me apart as I draw them in.