This Wasn'T Supposed To Be About Planes
I do not wanna subjugate all my laws
At the gates and above center of the
floating tabernacle.
I cannot be responsible for all your
happiness,
Not to mention the mistrust.
And to raise your lids even while my head is bowed,
as is often bowed,
Would be a catastrophe of a miracle.
The plane is swaying, malfunctioning,
The airstrip we worried over landing on was fine,
is fine, will always be fine,
We are the plane,
The airstrip the uncontrollable, unchanging
outside,
And I am here at the gate
With my most recent refundable plane ticket,
Though swaying as I do,
Controlling what little I do,
Like gazing through a window's volcano view.
Copyright © Matt Caliri | Year Posted 2010
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