You
are the airplane,
Traveling faster than the wreckage of noise
you leave behind,
You
Low-flying roar
Shaking the cores
of youths on rooftops
emptying beer bottles
into their bellies
Confusing birds,
Pissing on your territory,
an audio stream of noise pollution,
Claiming the sky as your own
You
The shining relic of the millennium,
An aerodynamic wonderamongst Midwest wheat,
The technological feat
of bored men with a hungry need to
prove themselves (W)right
The birds will not thank you
Neither will the families with
ticky tacky shelters plopped beside the tarmac
“Worse than living by the highway,” they say,
“I would live by the sea, if I could have it my way”
(a different kind of jet blue white noise)
The people you carry,
we are the only thankful souls
Being checked, scanned, and crammed
into tight places is
a preliminary condition I have lived with
You’re breaking the sky,
but you’re taking me places I could never be
otherwise