the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

The Second Flyover

Your bravado is too grand to grant you permission to land.
The ignorant gavel in your belligerent hand
Is enough weight for me not to stand for this injustice.
It slams down to mask the sound of your smirk presented,
A blade brandished and serrated.
Whether false alarm or your call to arms,
I'd rather mine dropped so I will not pick up.
Today was simply beautiful.
There was no cloud spelling out rain,
But these words as clear as the sky
Are exactly why I shot down your plane.

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