On the wings of a plane
You can perch on that machine on your balcony,
talking to neighbors that aren’t there, in a language that isn’t there.
Shoot your paper airplane off balance and don’t look where it lands.
Hop off that balcony, you’re not going to crash. Instead,
you’ll fly over the red tracks of your elementary school,
now repainted blue. Your favorite color.
Lane two. That’s where you’ll land.
Gently dig for roly polys and snails,
make them a steaming cup of tea with rain water and leaves.
It’s chilly out here, welcome to the Cafe of Lane Two.
No, the runners will not trample over your customers.
Don’t you worry about your lost uniform jacket, or the homework assignment you forgot to do.
The creek is waiting,
and your dog is still running across the field of dandelions. You wanted him to stay with you forever,
but you booked a ticket for a one way flight.
You hate planes, yet you still flew over sixteen years of distance.
This isn’t the paper airplane anymore.
Glance down at the creek, yes the one that meanders past the dandelions.
Where did you come from? I’ve been here all along.