Wandering Mind

Let me bunk up in your head
and make an axon dendrite bed,
beside your stream of consciousness
where alpha waves will soothe my rest.

I'll ponder the mystery of your meninx
as though it was the riddlesome Sphinx.
I'll be the soul-searching Pizarro or Cortez,
pushing though ganglion and neocortex.

Your social constructs would be a find;
I'd like to climb them, if you wouldn't mind,
and see a flock of ideas in flight
from that heady and vertiginous height.

And I don't see why I can't be
privy to your escapist fantasy
and spend a lovely afternoon
in an imagined Paris in a delusional June.