My girl’s plane was coming down
out of the sky.
it was coming down.
Her airplane wretched bizarrely
in the city night’s sky,
its underbelly lit
with long fluorescent bulbs.
There was no way of contacting her,
telling her I was witness to everything
and her insane demise.
The pilot attempted a landing
on the long tarmac
backlit by the flickering lights
of tall buildings
(somehow they’d managed a corridor
for this unlikely airport
and this unlikely landing).
On the second attempt
the plane caught a heady updraft
and nosed up sweet like
to the stars
and appeared to float suspended,
then it began to plummet
tail first to the ground.
I dashed for the dark canal
wearing nothing but chino shorts
and ran through the tall weeds
down the cement embankment
into the black water.
Then I saw the plane hit the asphalt
and light up the sky with madness.
The noise was unreal
and flames licked at the darkness
like the the devil’s feline
lapping at magma.
I knew there were snakes in the water
and while crawling back up the embankment
I felt a sharp pain at my elbow;
I saw a big black snake slither up the canal wall
and in the light of the explosion
I saw my smaller, nasty offender
cleaving with fangs
to my elbow.
By the time I shook it free from my arm,
my body wet and cold,
I could feel the ghastly pain come on
poisoning my arm and my heart:
She was a good girl.
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