I wonder if the only place I’m truly free is in my dreams,
away from cul-de-sac corners and cookie-cutter streets,
an imperfect vision of the potholes within my brain.
Sometimes it hurts to be trapped
in eternal search engine benediction,
A viable culprit and pliable victim,
Though perceived by some as sacrificial,
Slacked off, started up, ascending and defying gravity.
© Connie Song 2020. All Rights Reserved.
