From up here

The rugged air

like a country road

in a farmer’s pickup

kicking up red dust

 

Or in a boat

skimming on the tops

of chops

in the waves

 

The plane

also skipping

bouncing

on airy speed bumps

 

I’ve the sense

that I’m not flying

until I swallow

and the roar deepens

 

Down there

first the black snake

of a river

headless, tailess

 

Then the blanket

of bluish-white covering

and sailing

a cloudy sea

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