the sky is gray, and I see nothing
through the veil of clouds
until a crack of pink lightning
shows me the plane passing overhead.
my mind sees a woman onboard,
red-lipped and immaculate,
sipping wine as she flies through the storm.
she has a date somewhere in a ballroom tonight,
while a deep blue overtakes the gray.
she passes over me, and we are elated
in streams of our own.