FRANKIE'S FLIGHT

FRANKIE'S FLIGHT


Frankie falls asleep into the big questions,
big, irrational, both, as a continental map.
Look, could this be her life, these pink and green shapes
and the cities she sees, dizzied, like seeing stars?

Big, irrational, both, as a continental map,
her sleep swells into a hugely moving country,
and the cities she sees, dizzied, like seeing stars,
swirl, and the moon inhales them, but won't reply.

Her sleep swells into a hugely moving country,
where lilting, polysyllabic, unnatural states
swirl, and the moon inhales them, but won't reply.
Her thinking's twisted to twisters that sweep her up

where lilting, polysyllabic, unnatural states
babble and tumble through ungeometric spaces.
Her thinking's twisted to twisters that sweep her up,
her questions echo, like Dorothy gone for real,

babbling, tumbling through ungeometric spaces.
How it must toss and turn her, uncomfortable country!
Her questions echo, like Dorothy gone for real;
could all America slumber in such lost dreams?

Look, could this be her life, these pink and green shapes?
Frankie falls asleep into the big questions:
Could all America slumber in such lost dreams?
How it must toss and turn her, uncomfortable country!


Jack Hayes
© 2010

[The photo—as was the photo that accompanied "Asleep at the Wheel"—was taken during a 1989 cross-country road trip that originated in Charlottesville]