Mark Springer Poet Lyric

Notes About The Poem

This is a true story.

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Cessna

For our twin birthday, Dad thought it would be cool
To pay for a lesson at a flight school
My brother and I in a Cessna would go,
Soaring over the suburbs below.

There were two sets of controls, my brother sat ahead,
The teacher spoke, I didn't hear what he said
I sat in the back, and the engine was loud
Hopefully not important, as we entered a cloud.

I didn't want to be a pest, or ask him to repeat,
But then my brother and me had to swap our seat.
the pilot started a descent slow
The ground came up, a Westchester show..

The teacher shouted a sharp command,
But because I hadn't heard, I failed to understand
He shouted: "Pull up the throttle!" or was it the yoke?
I froze—was this some kind of bad joke?

He desperately yanked at a control of his own
This was not a situation where my insight had shone.
He looked like he was fighting a deadly hound
But the plane leveled out; and wheels touched the ground,

Evolution may be a struggle to survive,
At least he had evolved: we were still alive.
He walked away with a look on his face,
like I was a throwback from the human race

A sardonic expression but also appalled
That we had such a near miss and death had called.
I realized then I had almost killed us three
When the rubber hits the road, could you trust me?

it's not polite to pretend to communicate
You have to admit what you don't know, to avoid a fiery fate.
There's a lesson there, it pays to be rude
There's more respect in a not wasting-time attitude.

Since then, I've learned from mistakes
You have to stop, think, apply mental brakes
Always ask what can go wrong in a bind
Or you leave a trail of destruction behind.

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