Thank You Strange Planes
A familiar strangeness, A comforting unease. Oxymorons, drawn bladelike through the night sky. They come from West where the sun set, screaming, warbling like U.F.O.s, Their bodies hard to discern against the blackness. Thus their lights tangle in a fixed but unsightable space as though bobbling in miasma, Shifting disconcertingly as the pilots tell them, “roll.”
I let myself feel a pre-emptive hair-raising and my nerves bloat with the horror of an overhead mystery Even though I know As much as I want to believe tonight’s the night, today’s the day At the last moment I will bear witness to a particular angle and recognize anatomically The layout of some government jet. I’ll think, “I know you,” And as unsettling as it is to see them in civilian skies I know they ring ‘round the valley here Because there is a base near, and they’ve got to wait in line.
I know them so I nod and say, “I know you,” but In the aftermath of that affirmation comes the afterbirth: “I don’t know why you fly.” I know you, What you’re here to do, But not what sands may still cling to your landing gear.
I watch hawklike until the plane goes Over the houses, Over the hills, And out of my life. From a dark well dug millennia ago comes another thought: Today I know you, Tomorrow, I might not.
A beleaguered beast inside me - A watchdog intent on discerning the oncoming of eternal night in time to run from it - Wrestles its head up and watches the spot now empty of lights for a second that feels like a long time. I let it gnaw that paranoia-inducing sentiment like a bone Until sated and sleepy I It settles down. Tomorrow, it will slumber and fail to wake when everything actually worrisome comes.
This nightly ritual is vital to tame its appetite Because The planes go Over the houses, over the hills, And out of my life And nothing ever comes of it But another night, and another round of “Is it? Is that? It isn’t - relax” Whereas the real rustling little armageddons plaguing my waking day would stir the beast to genuine fright And I fear together we would combust.
Thank you, neighborly strangeness, Abnormal planes, Ethereal ordinary visitors to my local stars.
