The lonesome wailers sing
about a ribbon of highway
and I have always heard
the part about the highway
and how we are forced to
keep moving.
Today I heard the song
of the ribbon,
the way it flows under our feet
and also in our chests
and shines back at us
through the eyes of other travellers
and flutters in all the empty holes
and birdsong.
And that ribbon
moves for us,
on a highway
or a couch,
there is speed in it
and stillness,
and that’s the ride we’re looking for
and it takes us nowhere
and ties us up with everything
and once it fills us
we feel the sad laughter
and croon about love
throughout the journey.