I am thinking about the space/time continuum, about patterns, about imaginary travel;
the layered paths of airplanes over time,
the singular blip of a cellphone on a GPS tracker.
In some other dimension this world has moved off it's foundation a fraction of a shift.
As I wave my arm there are other arms fanning, beckoning a wing beat away,
With something heavy tipped from my fingers, hauling ass away to make it's mark.