Black starry wood headboard, the curlicues of nebulae and galaxies, I wake up weeping, some sad dream, grimaced face the deck of an old schooner, mast creaks and tears leak, and head sounding an ocean's fixins'.
Later on the drive the road map splayed, there is a bug, ant like, some kind of critter skittering over the routes, symbols legends and betwixt greens.
It's moving while I'm moving, but the six legger scouts another surface altogether while I sit aside on mine, perhaps, hopefully, sowing a vaster serpentine ledger.