as if a ghost

my body stationary
flying on the highway but my head
is making a to-do list that
morphs, warps as i wrap a
solution around the edges of it,
i'm tightened
quivering and waiting for the chance
to go and change things,
implement
my will.
we run 75, skipping
lines and weaving, waiting,
inside our minds twitching away
as if the concentration might
make idea take form.
i soak it
in, the milling possibilities