|Path perception, a desire for direction, point to point by the shortest line thru the lay of the land|
In space, in public, the rolling of my tires through grass has marked the following of my desires, and now they're taking the next step. Next to the oleanders, which within this same calendar year, were hacked and burned to stumps, now exuberantly regreening adjacent to the pathway of my desires, even pouring green drooping branches into the channelization of their concrete realization.
Oleander, oleander, will you shade the former path of my desire lines next summer? Will you wave over it in monsoon winds, and whisper in the night breezes? May I lay next to you aligned perfectly with my old desire line to stare up at the stars on a rare clear and dark night, making a desire angel?
You run, you ride, you stop to rest, and I will always still pause to give you direction: my desires lie down that way, what about yours?