so i turned off the radio. rolled down the windows. put on my sweatshirt. the sky is the largest i have ever seen. today it turned fall. you can tell by the breeze. i can see, over the blue-green cornfields, with yellow setting sun reflection, beyond the blue-green horizon, underwater colors, the lights come on like the stars above, just below the surface of the water. this is the infinity i have always knew. the cicadas and the crickets make a non-empty silence. an endless horizon bursting to life. i stopped the rushing of the wheels. i could hear the dried leaves and stalks rustling in the wind. everything here is infinite. like points on a line. a step inside the field and you don’t know where you are. i will walk on water. i will skim along the corntops. i can fly you know. i have already done it. the deep blue green will yawn and swallow me. the golden glowing plane will never end. it is all within my reach. it is all beyond me. everything is too large to grab on to. too immense to see all at once. it surrounds and encompasses you. the sky is a woman. absent and present.
(the city is small. like little stages set to drive through. lit with overly dramatic lights and empty silence. random lights in three dimensions. an empty sky with circular moon over white lines blowing in with the sand.)
i will return you see. like i never left. i will float planes on the horizons. i will drink the deep blue green. i will walk in the garden. i will plant a seed.