Notes

Fellow Travelers

I have traveled across the midriff of america in semidarkness the windows closed so I cannot see what waters stretch out before us or what cities alongside us the darkness and smells of sleep surround me and my companions rest their arms against my arms, thin layers of fabric all that keep our skin
Dylan Tweney 1 min read

I have traveled across the midriff of america in semidarkness

the windows closed so I cannot see

what waters stretch out before us or what cities alongside us

the darkness and smells of sleep surround me

and my companions rest their arms against my arms, thin

layers of fabric all that keep our skin from touching

as we speed through the sky in this act of levitation

and combustion

I read that the cloud industry now

contributes as much carbon dioxide

to the atmosphere as all of aviation

and I’m left wondering how it is

that even thoughts can cause tropical storms

even clouds make fire and smoke

these words depend on the cold rushing-forth of captured waters

where fish no longer swim upstream

on this plane we are all staring

at the same tiny animated visions but if I lift my eyes

this room is full of human bodies

the backs of their heads

are turned towards me, the other sides entrained

by a song and dance number illustrating

what to do in an emergency

well I think we have an emergency now

we are all deranged by loneliness

and cannot tear our eyes away

while the screens keep telling us

just a little bit further now

and you’ll be there

and all the while

there

isn’t

coming

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