Immersed in workdays, trapping tides,
her mind treks elsewhere while she rides:

the tunnel funnels into sea,
where time flows slower, all floats free.

Now she's a dolphin of a pod,
breaching easy off Cape Cod:

sunlight, bubbles, wash of air,
no more fashions, fussing hair,

just fins, a tail, the smoothest skin,
intelligence, enduring grin,

with untimed routes through random waves,
advancing where the spirit craves

- a vision lifting as she sinks
into her seat when EXIT blinks.