Air Born

Is on a bridge above the clouds, is air born
Is Marie Marvingt in a biplane, humming Gnome spitting oil
Shuddering wires, the church spires
Bleriot looking up, his felt hat black
An ant, a speck of coal
They take your bags and scan them
You hire a car, this was the dream and now
You've simply gone too far to be lost in self doubt
There is only the impending, compelling, spinning propelling how
The distance leaves a wispy trail, the turning of the wheel
the Fata Morgana highway, cloudward on the Millau
And therefore you must go on, therefore you must
Embrace every moment, not like hired help checking coats
Not like the mud-locked fisherman staring though unknowing,
Envy-filled at a parade of powered boats,
But eyes full of sky.


-Jonathon Grimes
For my friend Kimberlee for her emigration.

(how lucky am I?!)



reference: Marie Marvingt, Louis_Blériot