My idea of heaven is a road
that winds and winds toward home.

My idea of a car is not a car
in a showroom, shiny and still.
My idea of galactic travel
is a road through space.

My idea of color is evergreens
against a blue sky, snow below.
My idea of ideas is vague,
conceptual, fragmentary, fluid.

My idea of the unknowable
is something I know too well.
My idea of a night on the town
is staying home in the country.

My idea of a basket is your lap.
My idea of a lap is your lap.
My idea was to steal your ideas
until I became you.