Fog at 95

Originally written on September 26, 2009. 

a thick haze
covers the road
left right and ahead
can't see behind
lights glow through
beaming away
trying to light
the way
show the path
visibility is low
the road is smooth
some spitting rain
not today
just a heavy haze
a thick fog
of a cloud
kissing the ground
the road
i'm a pilot now
not a driver
flying through
looking for lights
red lights
brighter red lights
avoid the avoidable
navigating through
the mist
the fog
paying attention
accelerating within
the zone of flight
lift me up
take me away
accelerating more
tick by tick
mile by mile
up to ninety now
a little more
holding on
so relaxed
finding the peace
of that moment
the cloud envelopes
all of me
my car now a plane
soaring ever higher
never leaving the ground
feeling the molecules
of water vapor
thick and thicker
underneath the wings
of my arms
holding fast
at ninety-five
there is no sound
deep in that zone
not here
not there either
but somewhere
then i awake
it's not a dream
i'm really here
the fog is not
a metaphor of thoughts
the speed is real
and reckless
and deliberate
get back on the ground
wheels turning
slower now slower
the foggy haze
wraps around me
kisses me
one last time
wraps its arms
around me
then lets me go
leaves the earth
raises itself up
up and away
i can see
clearer now
ahead of me
not clearer now
within me
the thick haze
is in me
fogging me up
clouding my judgment
i can't think
at ninety five