A barren, pale green overpass passes over, as empty as space the echoes of its passing recede as I speed into the night.
The hours of shadows and whistling wind spinning, churning, cleansing my mind the journey is a metaphor I can feel, encased in steel buried under the weight of that night.
The white noise of flight bathing me in sterile waves hiding the murmuring animals
If it weren’t for their protein bulbs jutting above the seatbacks I’d feel completely alone, in flight.
I am left alone, in my space thinking about the sterile strangeness of all these animals, in a plane high, above the earth.
Looking down at the winking grid spread out, far below more of the same, I’m afraid of the people I’m very near to, letting go of my thoughts
thinking of their burial plots but I shouldn’t since I hardly knew them that sterile night we journied together unknowing, into the future.