Arrive in forty minutes and twenty seconds five dampened windows five fine signs Counting clouds and fibres on emu headrests all brothers are electric my sister forgets this night Our car is a searcher made of cartography my mother is always singing “Let the wind take the steering wheel” Popheniaa plays all night my father sleeps... Surrounding sites weave in shakes and we are leaving; passing all cities that lack a clear way out The tires flat and chugging and we are all hugging there is a felt love; for stillness for this place Our home is a searcher made of homo fabers dreams cut in the wheels let go we will reach higher to all soaring worlds Popheniaa plays all right our breath consumes all light-eyes we are awake all night