May 15, 2012

I don’t know, but I feel
as I’ve gotten older, I’ve
become more aware of
the wind that buffets
the airplane.

As a child, the plane
was sci-fi and invincible.
The chance of it crashing
was the same as me ever
becoming depressed.

Now, shaking involuntarily
just from the outside wind,
I sit at a window seat with
no one to my right, filled with a sense of shame.

I see hundreds, thousands of little houses. Each
one, I’d flip the roof off of and search, just to
see if you might be there.

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