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I’m plumeless Indian bird seated on a plane from one capital to
another up in the air beginnings & endings matter a little less
I attempt a poem coz I want to really fly it’s the aisle seat
its lateral leg space my mental buoyancy the air hostess eyeballs me
writing during takeoff her eyebrows prance like two approaching
caterpillars their climaxing romance tweezed out in the center
they catch my gaze I think they wink at me – is that how you take off?
I’m so attracted to cameos tonight wanting to play lead takes its toll
you see stripping the world of attention requires one to be naked himself
the man who held the sky but couldn’t hold himself when he was done
how do you ace this thing called balance a lot of pursuits feel like
knifing onions my eyes consistently turn into hot springs now I turn
my attention to the oblong of blue the window seat’s sky flawless blue
like Lord Krishna’s skin my blemishes prickly my pimples lovelorn
listen I’ve seen tourists find love in the quarries I mined for a little warmth
shards of metal littered my feet insignia disappeared into blood
here come sobs from the back here’s one more baby in a brave new
world turns out it’s a grown man in misery turns out sobs don’t age
galactic lights twinkle the plane meditates in the growling air
a museum of human stories faces become artifacts my ears rattle
from the altitude drop I spit out a couple of words spilled from
my mind’s throat they land on my adjacent passenger’s brow very
much like this plane on the strip important & incoherent hi there
do you see me do you see me through this haze I’ve now arrived
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