My address is Flight 10 to Honolulu
In the sky I forgot everything, which was probably for the best
– like childbirth, no going back. A grey hand rushed into
a grey glove. I found we had brought our own brightness. Then
living as gods (because frankly who else gets up here?)
minus an engineer who said even engineers don’t know how
we stay airborne – but otherwise fine, wine, song, a film,
a talk with the window at sunset, in fact a bit of an epic,
all the sex and all the death, all the love, all the utu.
– like childbirth, no going back. A grey hand rushed into
a grey glove. I found we had brought our own brightness. Then
living as gods (because frankly who else gets up here?)
minus an engineer who said even engineers don’t know how
we stay airborne – but otherwise fine, wine, song, a film,
a talk with the window at sunset, in fact a bit of an epic,
all the sex and all the death, all the love, all the utu.
Phew! I pictured a little life down there, in that darkness.
I’d read the ephemera in the pocket in the seat in front of you
– scent, linen, summer, the clamour of children clear
as bells. A smiling husband. A house to put them in. I was
as good as a god or little artist. At midnight I swear
it all came roaring up to greet me.
I’d read the ephemera in the pocket in the seat in front of you
– scent, linen, summer, the clamour of children clear
as bells. A smiling husband. A house to put them in. I was
as good as a god or little artist. At midnight I swear
it all came roaring up to greet me.
