How quickly will the soul travel
Once it is shaved of its ballast?
Once a secret soldier, wayfarer migrant
the miles piled up
Now he has been presented with wheels
he sits and he smiles
shoulders hunched, elbows perched.
Never worry, I'll be there,
the spirit you gave me
my head, my talk, my style, my witness
your Fast Track.
I hope the coffee is good airside...