Minus ten, two nights without sleep.
The Toronto to Vancouver love bus
drilled its way across
the relentless late winter prairie .
The convex skull of Saskatchewan,
enclosed by a glass dome sky
seared by the violent white winds.
This is the state of pure horizon.
After the snow of Ontario
the travellers optic burns,
dilates the distances
hallucinates the passing towns,
their teddy bear cowboys
levitating horseless to the bar.
Mesmerised in my telegraph trance ,
I am getting closer,
pole after pole flashing by
destination her.
