DETOUR

Instead of waiting at the light
Then turning left into the train station
You enter the right lane

But your unseen passengers
Say nothing as forward motion
Is captured in one long take

From your eyes’ perspective
While in a box that occupies
A quarter of the screen

Still pictures pass in series—
Weed-filled field, free-standing
Building, empty parking lot—

So ghostly, ghost of this,
Ghost of that, and you go
Toward no destination