They flow
Like the ribbons
Of mylar highways
Trucking on the data
Flossed with membranes
Stretched across the 
Rainbow path
I walk
With soft integrity

I didn't ask for the right
To fly
I didn't seek for a way
   to satisfy
The lust
For salty phrases
   jagged lines
      molten images
         swollen tones

But there they are
Ripe for me to hold and own
If I don't claim
The right
   to feel these
      veins
         of raw refrain
They're gone
   like mist
      when touched by
         morning sun

To deny their presence
And let them play
Is to ask for music
To end the day

(c) 1996 James Oliver Smith, Jr