Acting in a movie starring you,
A movie about this guy who wants to fly,
Not in airplanes, but fly like a bird,
Like Superman . . . but not super, not
A hero, just a regular guy
Who watches the sky and dreams
Of joining the birds up there,
Learns to control that addictive sensation,
The rush of falling through air.
So you run and jump
And lift and fly for short bursts . . .
Then tumble along the ground
Like you did as a kid, watch the dizzy clouds
Circle, the horizon wobble, hear the blood
Throbbing in your ears . . . contrails fade up high,
A vee of geese come honking by, flapping,
Pulling you to your feet to run again and honk
And try to fly,
But this time you are naked
As Icarus without wings, and you’re free,
Running with the girl of your dreams, nude
And beautiful as the young are in films,
Your long hair flying in the wind . . . shoulders
And arms touching skin. Holding hands
You spring and soar together . . . fly till you fall
Tangled, roll laughing to a rest . . .
Flash back, another segment you guess,
Another cinematic vee migrating
Overhead in your head, and you smell
The grass in her hair, pull her close, brush your lips
Across her ear, pass your fingertips over her skin,
Her hips, her back, her thighs, slip your
Elbow between her legs and rise, stand up,
Your hand flat against her back, her groin
Nestled in the crook of your arm, and it’s hard—
But you rock her like a child hugging your neck . . .
Yet this is not the climactic scene.
Because you’ve been here before. So you keep on
Dancing, dreaming, watching the sky,
Closing your eyes and leaping to soar, to cruise,
To belly-roll through the night . . . to fly
Into the dark at the speed of light.
for my dream girl, Pam