streetlights on concrete

the cuts in the road, the parallel lines
the lights in the sky,
excitedly flash their yellows and reds
reflect in my iris
night fires it's light.
i ask if i see with my body,
if i float up above and fly in between
the atoms and airplanes that make up
the air.
my mouth's making sound
that's seeming to flow with the dots
on the street.
speak, breath, speak, breath.
steady breath, steady breath.
but why? i ask
am i caught in this pattern
this tapping of fingers, this routine
of tongue.
i ask if the words in my head
are unspoken, unreal, or too deep
or secrets im bound to my body to keep?
this magical - frightening - helpless imagery
the cuts in the road,
the parallel lines,
the smudges of light,
the the fish in the sky
the bows on the trees
the unnecessary hum of daily pattern
i float up above
and fly in between
all the while, no one could know what I mean.