The Tube

Machines beep out a sporadic Morse code,
the waxy floors reflect bright rectangles of light.
The wheels of the gurney whir,
and there is an odd sort of smell—
cafeteria food and chemical.
As I am transported to the giant magnet,
the reflection of my entire body supine
seems less solidified in the black glass
on the ceiling.

Atvian trickles through my veins,
and I feel each piece of me is breaking down,
succumbing to its spell.

When I think I have awoken,
I am on a gray cloud in a fairyland forest;
paper pebbles are in my ears,
warm snowflakes cover my eyes,
but I can see through my pores…
flora from the year 802,701 are profuse,
and perfume the atmosphere.
The colors of the mountaintops
and the bottom of the sea
surround me.

Then my hand grazes an onion—
a giant pearl,
the moon of Lenore—
and all grows dark.
My eyes pop open,
and I whisper to the forgotten night forest
that has turned to a white plastic cell,
“I am afraid”,
but no one is there to hear.

My arms feel like broken wings;
I try to crawl on my back,
but then a voice from Elsewhere
tells me to stay calm
for a few more minutes,
and I know subconsciously
I am in a safe place.

Inhale, exhale,
my eyes closed,
I try to slow my heart like Paavo Nurmi—
The Flying Finn—
and then I am expelled from the capsule,
babbling about flowers and colors
whilst the forest grows dark again.

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