modes of transport

when i was a girl i thought that happiness was riding in a car with all the windows down. it was feeling the wind ravage my hair wolfing it down and letting stray strands whip the side of my face like strings of angelspit. i would dream of painting pictures of this happiness. i would imagine the meanings i could imbue the images with. this intensely personal heaven of fast cars and outstretched arms riding the wind.

now i am older and i've discovered happiness exists the same way as death. it is like water. it flows too fast. it is like music. the notes tilt and roll over my head and i, unable to catch even one, am left with sad crusts of beauty. the parable of the arrow was founded upon this ancient mystery. the stone thrown never reaches the ground. we are asked to believe in infinitely divisible numbers and we are asked to believe in time. how can i comprehend the notion of time? it is fallacy. illusion. a theory that makes no sense. because a moment is unable to be swallowed, unable to be held on to. i can't even see how moments exist. in these empty divisions lurks my happiness. or perhaps, only its passing fragrance.

what's your mode of transport? mine is the sun. when it rises dripping from the sea when it falls like honey on the trees when it swallows up clouds my soul moves with it.