We are crossing the wild Rappahannock.
"Hooves above water, a miracle!"
"To what end,"
cries Colonel T-bone Lassiter.
"To engage the enemy. To get it on!"
screams General Beauregard Pickens.
"What does that mean?" General. "'Get it on'?"
"Nevermind, I was thinking ahead."
We are crossing the Atlantic, a small part.
We are armed. We wear dark green coconuts
on our heads. The Great door falls,
the beach appears, tiny hummings streak by.
"Vacation," someone shouts.
"Just the weather," says another.
Captain Pickens III looks back at us.
"My bad!" he shouts. "Wrong beach!"
"What does that mean Captain, 'my bad'?"
"Nevermind, I was just thinking ahead."
We are bobbing, yet standing on this great lake
Nothing visible below our feet. Just blue water.
North is the new world. South is gone.
There is no memory.
One vast person moves out across the water.
"Love!" shouts Pick.
"Yes!" choruses the Body.
The smoke is rising from something I set fire to in my hand.
I don't remember much because I was busy. I only remember it
was blue and green, gray around the edges. I notice smoke
is slowly seeping from my nostrils, like small clouds in the sky.