To Fly

we are thousands of miles

above the ground,

thousands of pounds,

barreling through the sky

and i get up to use the bathroom

and you hand me a bag of chips.

touching clouds, you dream.

but it isn’t a dream anymore.

we have learned how to fly.

and now, there are lines,

and closed windows,

and emails,

barreling through the sky.

from high enough up

the still river is a mirror,

the still river is the sky.

weaving (between) the clouds

a message in a bottle drifts,

hits rapids, turbulence.

it breaks open,

and it gets wet.

everything inside is bright white.

we have entered the fog.

here, i can taste the stars

and the mist from your chicken ramen.

here, i am nowhere.

a reflection in many mirrors all pointed

up and in,

at themselves.

i don’t know you

and you don’t know me

but we sit side by side in a miracle.

this is how the humans

have learned how to fly.