I can raise fallen leaves
in an ascending spiral, so they shout
We’re returning up to our branches.
 
Nothing travels so effortlessly, swift, and far
as I. To prove this to the sedans, heavy trucks, SUVs
on the freeway, I buffet them from the front, then round to one side.
 
I belong to no country. I set the flags
and rags of flags rippling, streaming,
ripping them to scraps that mean only triumphant air.