We go

Generating a procession

of wild lights through the shifty mists,

harnessed people pass in their cars.

They follow the invisible track

of stone-crunching horse-and-cart ghosts.

The barely visible road signs

are like the signs on zoo cages

describing captive animals.

Thumbed horns trumpet cacophony.

The sun begins to burn the haze

from our secret affinities.

In the tangle windscreened faces

interact promiscuously.

Neat steering wheels slide noiselessly

through soft fingertips of desire.

This primordial landscape speaks

advertisements making sentences

of consumption from wanting words.

Rising with the exhaust and mist

are the spirits of tracks now gone.

Waving to the rhythm of hooves

travellers on a mail coach go

with a gesture of beckoning.

We go - fish on this ocean floor -

Forever awake and yearning.

And forever agitated.