Half-glimpsed not seen in silver mirrors,
Cutting my nerves like glass.
I have let myself be trapped
In strange, fantastical places.
Lonely, dark-eyed child whispers.
I took the balloon, the half-torn ticket,
Climbed aboard. Belts clicked into place.
Sometimes fear is a good thing,
hands gripping a steering wheel,
children dozing in back seat.
Sometimes – lights out – I just need some sleep,