Balmy

data would

enter through

her senses:

sights, sounds, touches

tastes, smells,

but be trapped by

thoughts, plans,

dreams,

many times stuck,

rolling around,

looping to absurdity,

squeaking to halt —

terminal pending.

after the cleanup

crew duct taped her

to a chair and

removed,

disposed of the

hoarded mess,

she’s balmy:

“and she was”,

“talking heads”,

crisp air,

ginger cider,

wood smoke,

easy come

easy go

she is

flying,

at will.

Tao Talk