Airplane

I want to run away,

from my life,

from my body.

I want to get on a plane and fly.

I stare out the window,

watching the monstrous shadow

darkening the blacktop.

The cabin is quiet,

empty,

save for the warming whir of the engines.

I’m tired.

Just let me sleep.

Let me wake up

a thousand miles away.

Freely nobody.

Freely anybody.

But I can’t sleep.

I can’t blink

or it’ll all fade away.

A shadow in a strobe-light’s glare.

And the world will return,

a monster

to chew me up

and spit me out.

No,

I will stay on my plane.

My plane.

How beautiful those words 

shape themselves.

My plane,

my escape, 

my refuge.

A flight to nowhere.

But maybe someday

I’ll go somewhere.

Maybe someday

I’ll even fly myself.

For now,

I just sit in my seat

and dream.

Try as I might,

I’m still stuck here

on my plane. 

Enclosed 

in the trap I made,

the trap I forced myself into.

Are you sitting next to me?

Are you already in the cockpit?

Are you the one with the guiding lights?

Are you the one in the tower?

Are you waiting for me where I’m going?

I have lived in this plane

alone

for so long.

No room to run.

No room to play.

No room for change

or fear

or uncertainty.

Nothing but contemplation,

imagination, 

exploration

from the safety of my seat.

I’m waiting,

tense,

scared, 

for a takeoff I know is coming.

I don’t know when I’m leaving.

I don’t know where I’m going.

And I’m scared.

Stay next to me,

holding my hand.

Stay in the cockpit,

carrying me safely.

Stay on the radio,

talking me down.

Stay on the blacktop,

waving me goodbye.

Stay on my mind,

don’t leave me alone.