They have their tricks and I have mine.

I can make myself float
by staring into light bulbs,
so they use fluorescents.

When I breathe the open air
I too am open, and my mind
floats into cloud-scapes–
so they don’t use windows you can open,
and the air is forced to us,
cold, through pipes and vents.

But secretly I drink a glass of water
and even though it could taste better,
it is cool and wet in my throat
and I am on an ocean
floating on my back in a wooden raft.

I can smell the seagulls who land at my feet
and my hair is floating in a pool around me.
The boat lurches softly as the keel
scrapes onto a sandy beach.

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