I am a shipmate’s girl on a sea of corn. I have found the edge of the world. It is sleepy and unending here, and you don’t need to fear falling. The air is fragrant like poppy-scented Nyquil. I have found the edge of the world, and the phlox grows deep into the river. The wind is like candycanes. You can breathe as long and deep as you like. No guardrails, no warning, no desperation, no vice, no harsh words, no electrical wires. The feeling of beauty is so palpable; it’s like scuba-diving. Your thoughts are like bits of torn magazines. No beginning and no end. No logic or reason. You can just breathe the wind like candycanes.