who knows how many seconds

All the VIP people and their zip assistants gather
and are seized by an urge to get greedy.
They have no experience with tornadoes,
but they long for a spin like the one Dorothy was spun in.
Blissfully richer they they check the websites for space tourism


They sparkle with talent and charisma like some room Andy Warhol painted on a weekend,
dizzier than a neighborhood crow in your living room
looking for an open window.

Riders of the wild wild glitz
most will make it through and then go into withdrawal
and find an empty hell
and try to find a replacement for it,
something similar to a moment hiking above the clouds on your favorite Asian mountain range
or maybe just at a look-off in the local highlands
when you need to stretch your legs
and you get a good view and linger
and biochemically or maybe magically(if you can't nail down the methodology)
every part of you simultaneously pauses,
and when the pause lets go
hearts of stone roll
like you've merged with who knows what
for who knows how many seconds.