No plans are just what I want from a
day.
Well, that and means–and an excuse–to
fly away.
With a beat for a seat and a melody for
thrusters,
I killed most of an afternoon in a
parallel universe.
I made my waking life surreal enough
for bed,
Seeing new worlds without the mess in
the back of my head.
I've grown to love the abstract and the
distant, the unreal,
Despite, and all the more for, their
somewhat limited appeal.
Some might say I could miss things here
on earth while I am gone,
But that kind of worry's not my kind of
thing to waste my time on.
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