Wednesday, March 26, 2014
The only time I was ever in Germany
Watching dawn come at Frankfort Airport
Staring out on a school of
planes
(neatly arranged like huge
patients in a ward
attached with feeding tubes
of walkways to the
terminal)
dawn creeps in.
It comes as a lightening
of the sky
from black
to indigo
to navy blue
to steely gray.
Somewhere on the flight
somewhere over the north Atlantic
somewhere at 37,000 feet
I lost six hours.
Dawn comes late in Frankfort
in December
but my watch is still at
10 'til 2 in the tiny
hours of Eastern Standard Time.
Who owes me these six hours?
How do I get them back?
All around me members of
my group are sprawled
on black, comfortable
seats,
dreaming that in sleeping they
can steal back the time.
But those six hours are
simply gone, I tell you!
Poof! Disappeared! Lost....
Now a monorail passes outside the window,
people lit up inside, heading for airplanes.
I can see planes dropping to earth
and leaping away on faraway
runways.
People are trapped inside
each of them, headed toward
Budapest, Singapore,
New York, Moscow,
New Dehlia. Losing
or finding hours as they
go.
I hope someone nice finds
the six hours I lost
and uses them well.
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