byLauren Hynde©

The smooth flight
of great birds of prey
crosses the pages of magazines I read
sitting on the plane
that takes me without flap
above grey clouds
and temperatures of -60º Celsius
I flip through the gloss
the static flight of great birds
across those pages
just like the flight of the jet
which I barely notice
sitting on my upholstered seat
safety belt firmly fastened

The lights below
shift and morph
the time to deplane nears
faster than I can realize
but still I clench those glossy pages
perpetually spreading my wings
over the infinite territory of possibility
I avert my eyes from the window
and try not to think
of where to go next

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