Why the air plane can fly

I am musing on the chill of the air
That walks through my skin
While the air plane is flying above the car
Tell me what kinds of expensive people are flying
Yet I am going to the destination of nowhere, my eyes on those galaxies

When the evening has disrobed the remaining light
I want to nibble your ears
Like a medieval peasant who ravens on his dinner
Hold your hand as if the only blanket against the blistering nights
And merge my imaginations with yours on the ground of childhood
And, baby, when you sing a song, let me have your breath
On all these meadows that foretold us
About the lonesome light towers standing sacredly in the sea

I feel what you felt,
I do what you did,
I breathe what you breathed,
And let’s go along the trails to the bastion of the paramours
Where people are dancing with the music dripping from the vines
And melt into each other
Hence it shall be announced, “An escape from the band of twerking”

The way to success, said the jabberer
Is to sell your time for
Different numbers of people in your mail inbox
The seamless network of incense (when burned)
The loudest peace I have ever known

For the epitaph is so unknown in the wing-mirrors
Let’s celebrate the indolence of the people in the tea shop
Munching on the last night football match
Or the random sexiness of the walking girls blossomed by the street

The night’s moon beams so much that
I could jump on all my dreams
And dare to speak in naked mind
To the unconscious green miles I have traveled
All the night I have been thinking
How many people of the New World have been fettered
By the promises of freedom?