God is an airplane.

We were all held hostage, seated forward, and given a choice of coffee, orange juice, or mineral water.

My ass is numb from prostration.

And I would kneel if I could and kiss the earth I cannot locate, but for our position. It's beneath me, I know, as are these people who think they are alone with their loss of courage. I could hold the hand of the aging black woman dressed for Sunday to my left, and reassure her, to reassure myself, that all will end well. But hers are busy cradling her face, not quite so soft.

The air is stale.

Birds cannot fly here.

And my hands create a single strained fist to steady this heart's pace instead.

Blinding whites and beiges flank my eyes, so in time I become a clydesdale in a start-stop-start St. Patrick's Day parade, marching in file, singularly to suit, blinded to any clue.

But then we unboard.

There is not a checkpoint in sight as our jeep stumbles on.

Earlier today was earlier yesterday and the dawn before that, as these days bleed together like an overworked watercolor. There are three of us left but no words left to share that will turn our thoughts away from the void in our guts.

Eroded earth walls with the thick brush topping them was a blurred fabric stage-set to our eyes unable to adjust beyond the headlamp glare. For now, we were no longer men but part of the hard machine that had carried its rust and us this far. As for fuel, it wasn't necessary without needle in sight under these starless skies.

"Did you notice yet, the sunrise off to our left?"
 
In any other place but this, we would have seen this for all of its baited majesty and growing fireball hues, but this morning he noticed only that for the past two, maybe three, the sun rose to our right.

This was last spring.

Wrapped about my finger
was not you so tightly,
but a wavy strand from your head.

As the sun would rise
and set aflame the aspen bent nodding upriver,
the Columbia began to dance
and beckon those that would call themselves surfers.

But here I would sit at this picnic table
in this gorge between St. Helens and Hood
thinking of you and your brown strands.

Woven throughout this blue fleece
I'd tug you out,
wrap you about my index
and then give you up to the wind

to also have you here.

Rain came this morning in the form of soft pats upon the skylight. The sound washed in memories of tent camping in spring where you could see your breath that thanked the morning rain drizzle for keeping the newborn mosquitoes at bay.

To feed blood to muscles having slept unsoundly over roots and rocks, we would then hike small adventures. After oatmeal and brown sugar.

Anticipating The World Cup

Watercolor skies shrink west at that time of day when high school stadiums light up the Pennsylvanian hillsides. Fleeting, the light fights to silhouette all that stands before it, as a hidden spot would light a trophy flowering Dogwood. These nights past were nights for night games under the lights and filing out, ball in hand, to Eye of The Tiger.

The tungsten clusters were bright, just enough to make certain nothing beyond these bleachers, these goalposts, was taking place. Soft soil hugged our cleats. Dew, the sun held at bay, wet the grass to fill our nostrils with earth on nights such as these when the whole world was on the line.

With luck, smells that will never be new to me again will triumph the need for future and seed memories in those yet to come.

Brief Construction Mirrors the Lasting

Unnatural white light
forces breaking to slow
to gawk
to wonder
what is now new along this highway.

Small white stars dot the immediate landscape
to aid yellow dinosaurs and orange men
to tear into earth
to construct things hard and cold
and inevitably doomed to crack and crumble.

Red break lights cease talking to my feet
and the chiaroscuro castings no longer illuminate
the green of spring budding of junk trees.

I am left to be patient;
a rare request in this Ritalin-prescribed world:

in a few hours our warm star will again make an appearance
to cast its ambient glow
and remind us we are nothing
and everything for a moment.