I see enough motion to let it hold me
I hear enough sound to let it shut my mouth.
A day spent in an automobile.
The free riff of the exhaust pipe of a car in front of you in
Traffic just makes want a smoke today.
I opt not.
Vaporization. No combustion like an engine.
Nicotine: grease stopping the grinding of gears.
Politics prattle, pressing patience, like so much blood into wine,
Sounds of it waft, as aromas, into my ears for sniff n’ smell.
Emerge from a news blackout to find your-self
A Stranger in a Strange Land;
yet, still, I feel like every-thing
I missed, while sleeping, slept, also.
So, Who is on first, yeah?
But, who is lucid?