5 inches longer than my hips
It drags beneath the floor
Stooped picking ends Up

If it was storage I lost
Then that is what I sorted
To be waiting for my return
And everyplace is an arrival

Some wheels still moved
On smooth grooves and grins
In varnished pavements
Whilst Waving in passing

Since these are the oil lengths
That will separate this way from that
And so will continue

As a thousands hues above the ground

Sleeping through steam and mist
Atop the Atlantic
Or beneath with
black transparencies during the existential technicolor discos

Of arranged meetings of faux upholstery
some that moved with the tunes too
Though most that stayed glued

With that oil that never seemed to dry
Yet managed to keep everyone there in place with no reasons why
And though closer to tar this was not one that flew in through our Olympic airways nor trains or cars

Oh cars
With melted chocolate on the plastic grips that stayed for years
On stretches of land for legs of chairs to soon expand

Some moments are so carefully placed in a room as furniture
Never to move
With or without the planned dance

And through the options here in the sky
Here I will decide
With open window entertainment
which destination and journey
I will ride