Substitute Pilot

I’m called to the cockpit. They say I’m to fly
       the plane on through. I won’t have to land
us or navigate any storms making up our sky

       unless I want the experience. Just my hand
steady on the stick while they take a break,
       the pilot and his first mate, as was planned

when they gave me my ticket cheap, let me take
       a discount and ship all my luggage for free
as long as I’d do the whole flight wide awake.

       I tell them, “You’re the ones dreaming, not me,”
since whenever I dream of flying, I always die
       before we come down, then I wake in crash debris.

But ok then, point me a star to set our wings by.

 


 
 

by maggie

 
 

background notes — heptahedral

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