Whole, Whole, Half.

It is continuous and flowing, he said.
a constant, this state. A highway
stretching out as far as the eye can see
Earlier he had sat lost in reverie at
the beauty of the spaces decorating the landscape
rather than the landmarks.
"Look" he said. "At?" She asked
unfolding her map and looking for it
not finding it.

The fields separating the landmarks
blur green outside the window, his head against it,
varied periods of silence, of inactivity
the pleasurable negative space of
not going anywhere, not making love,
not speaking,
and not minding it too.
Not just the notes, the intervals too.