Sunday, May 4, 2008

I've been on six planes in the past nine days
and I don't care what scientists and engineers say --
I believe that flying is a miracle. 
There is that moment just after takeoff
for a few seconds when, just skimming the trees,
it feels like one of my dreams of flying:
my ability to fly depends on how well
I can will myself to ascend, and if I lose the concentration
I quickly  drop to earth. Fabulously exhilarating!
(Especially when the dream goes on and on....)
If only airplane travel had the same effect.
But how lovely the vertebrae of the mountains,
and the flanks of the foothills stretching out,
the loops and twirls of rivers.
And how marvelous to be home again, in my own bed.
I tire of the public crush of humans in airports,
the frantic push through security, zip zip zip.
The seating which prevents a recumbent posture!
The same tired bananas and red & golden delicious! apples.
No real food, nor air.


  1. My very first flight was on Pan-Am to Hawaii. Escaping to Honolulu. Face glued to the tiny window as the plane surged to the sky. What a rush! Real food with a fork and a knife.Now air travel reminds me of taking the #4 trolley from downtown Seattle to Capital Hill. The press of bodies scrambling for seats. Fragments of speech layering the air space.Junk food eaten with fingers.

  2. I remember when airlines had to lure you to patronize them by offering, gasp, SERVICES, gasp!