John R Miao

The pressure on your chest weakens as the craft gradually decelerates to a halt, and you find all the mass has been pulled out of you, leaving only your volume.

Somewhere far away, just far enough away that you won’t find it, there is a highway that goes on forever.  Driving down that highway at 75 miles an hour, is a car that will never run out of gas.

It’s morning in Paris, 

and the city still sleeps, 

though the sun has long risen 

and the cat has long been stretched in the light 

that washes over the quiet courtyard. 

there is peace in the darkness, an 

alluring sense of acceptance in failure 

closed eyes & open eyes both see the same 

but please 

stick out your hand