Wistful future looks back, over its shoulder Eyes are glistening, with the light or tears Rounded mirrors, facing each other Backward and forward, with the repetition On and on and on Sitting and looking, fore and aft As the ship bobs and the nausea Strikes: my stomach can take it but My brain struggles, dizzy and unfocused So I must find my way into the untimed Races: going around the track with such focus As to forget that the mirrors ahead and behind Indicate what I'm leaving and what's coming And see only the curves of the track The speed of the wind, pushing me sideways Mixed up between land and sea, but as a bird Who does not care, watching the fish and the mice But so focused on flying as to forget the small birds Defending their nests, pecking and pecking and pecking Waiting for the next updraft, waiting before re-interpreting Waiting to find another analogy, to follow the grain of the wood