Little airplane, how full you must be
of those little liquor bottles. How full
you must be of nervous people
& don’t take it personally when they
take off their shoes and fill you with an
earthy smell or when they slam the
overhead compartments too hard. They
all have terribly important business:
Some of them woke up at 5 AM to a chickadee
alarm clock & did 50 sit-ups on the floor
next to their bed, & some of them feel
very guilty about the orange cats they left
pawing the front window this morning.
Sure, little airplane, some of your people hope
to carry several bags of money back with them
on the return flight & are in a big hurry
& don’t say hello or thanks when they drink
their little liquor bottles, but some of them,
I’m sure, would like for it to rain back home –
not too much, but just enough for
the potted ficus on the front porch to keep
from sagging til they get back, & some
of your little people might be returning
to their birthplaces. Yes, someone is dying,
little airplane, or a little person has been born
& she needs to meet her uncle
so super speed, little airplane! And I
will walk through the empty neighborhoods,
visiting all the lonely cats & watering all
the porch plants, & when I hear you,
little airplane, I will remember a walk
with my two friends & how we spent
an hour near the airport waving to all
the busy people rushing to this place or that,
breaking the sound barrier & such.
That day we talked about every little thing
our minds took hold of & every time
we opened our mouths a pile of diamonds
spilled out & we let the birds carry it all away.
of those little liquor bottles. How full
you must be of nervous people
& don’t take it personally when they
take off their shoes and fill you with an
earthy smell or when they slam the
overhead compartments too hard. They
all have terribly important business:
Some of them woke up at 5 AM to a chickadee
alarm clock & did 50 sit-ups on the floor
next to their bed, & some of them feel
very guilty about the orange cats they left
pawing the front window this morning.
Sure, little airplane, some of your people hope
to carry several bags of money back with them
on the return flight & are in a big hurry
& don’t say hello or thanks when they drink
their little liquor bottles, but some of them,
I’m sure, would like for it to rain back home –
not too much, but just enough for
the potted ficus on the front porch to keep
from sagging til they get back, & some
of your little people might be returning
to their birthplaces. Yes, someone is dying,
little airplane, or a little person has been born
& she needs to meet her uncle
so super speed, little airplane! And I
will walk through the empty neighborhoods,
visiting all the lonely cats & watering all
the porch plants, & when I hear you,
little airplane, I will remember a walk
with my two friends & how we spent
an hour near the airport waving to all
the busy people rushing to this place or that,
breaking the sound barrier & such.
That day we talked about every little thing
our minds took hold of & every time
we opened our mouths a pile of diamonds
spilled out & we let the birds carry it all away.
