Pilot’s Morning

a pilot’s morning, flat calm
& the sweet smell of day
squadrons doff their shells
lift off & sweep the bay
where morning sun & winos meet
this is my tense
i glide between masts & chains
foretelling accidents

not a breath of wind, still grains
of salt hurtle through the streets
the ragged cast’s assembled
& are perched upon their seats
& the captain’s orders
“i only want the fittest of the bunch”
me, i’m merely here for lunch

a flap-flap of the wings
a flap-flap of the wings
a flap-flap of the wings
keeps me motionless

now the councilor is taking coffee with his scrambled eggs
wise & fat, he survives by knowing what will happen next
& the pavement is a work of art, everyone knows it is
& god isn’t interested in our comfort, neither are we in his

crooks they ride on bicycles, business women jog
well dressed devils in tell-tale hats out to walk the dog
on the fire-escape the cleaning lady mutters underneath her breath
“goody-goods, goody-goods, let me wring your necks”

a flap-flap of the wings keeps me motionless

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