It’s a bird it’s a plane, it’s—

no it’s really a plane

silver-streaked against the wild blue backdrop

but I wish it were a bird

some rare prehistoric thing that came off a mountaintop

not full of businessmen ordering Bloody Marys

or stewardesses getting groped

or everyone in coach wondering why they don’t get extra ice

They’d all be first class in my bird!

All the peanuts you can eat

If only I knew where it was going

Still wishing it were my bird

what a hell of a nest that thing would make

one egg could roll off

forming a crater that’d rival Chesapeake Bay’s

no I’ll have to be happy with it as it is

not my bird

somebody else’s

full of people going to see loved ones

to new homes

new jobs

running from something or to something

going to adopt a baby in Thailand

not heading for the Bermuda Triangle

The pilot announcing that they’re flying at 30,000 feet

taking a slight detour around a wall cloud ahead

Look down everybody, wave.

___

GUY CRAMER is a writer from Texas who’s had recent words in HAWKEYE, The Bulb Region, and Mixtape Review. His first novel Cowboy Melt is releasing later this year. IG: guy.cramer