solar-impulse-plane-circumnavigates-globe-without-single-drop-of-fuel-21The ex footballer tried
to fit his huge frame into the tiny chair
in the cramped plane made for small people
of which he was not one
with his sagging musculature of college sport
he dreamed of when he sprinted hot faced
and glorious on football field with the roar of
the crowd warming his back like midday sun
how far we come, how fast we lose
that energy of youth
the ex footballer mused
pinch of metal seat digging into
his oft knocked, sore knees
when she
much older behind her fragile
wrists, perhaps enough to be
his reluctant mother
if her breasts were full of milk
and her loins birthed him still
as big as he was
as small as she is
sat next to him and folded up her skinny legs
like the free pretzels given by bossomy air
though I think they go by another name
everything so politically correct these days
he told her he worked for a New England company
checking roads and longed one day to
escape the cubicle and regain his former glory days
to run until his breath labored and chest burned
with the fervor of a free man
why he was so candid surprised them both
her eyes full and dark locked on his words
and he could see how fine her cheekbones looked
with the flash flash of the de-icer cutting across wing
little windows facing out into cold skies
how long do you think it will be? he asked
meaning many more things than plane schedules
do you have a destination?
neither could answer with any sense of certainty
she pushed her shoulders into his and he
devoured her smallness with his bulk
underneath the blankets when overhead lights dimmed
people turned, sighed and fidgeted in darkness
he found her passage and she his sorrow
they moved together like dark wind pushed the plane
ever forward into the future
drowned out by constant surge of motor
his climax covered by engine cry
when you do not see each other, is it real?
or dream fitful against rushing skies
neon lights clicked on and wrinkles were
ironed hastily out of slouched dreamers
she left without hand luggage
an old lady of eighty asked him to carry hers
he lost the color of her hair in disembarking crowd
blurring with sleeplessness
swallowed her whole
her smell on his fingers and rumpled clothes
his hotel room cold and empty with styrofoam cups
empty of warmth
holding her movement behind his eyes
finally sleep took him down
loose limbed and missing
something of the dance they created
lost in time and space
sailing above the clouds