Engines blare, passengers rush aboard
A pilot yawns and slams the door
I’m terrified
The lights dim, chaos an illusion?
As a PA gargles music
I’m stuck inside
Reversing from the dock it’s clear
No turning back from here
Runway
A premonition-poisoned feeling
My stomach in the ceiling
Liftoff
Machines grind, like gristle between teeth
We’re headed toward the heath
Geronimo
Just then peace, a steady silence rests
We’ve commandeered the crest
I close my eyes
Then flames
Thirty-six thousand feet, five-hundred fifty shoes
All headed to the ground, a fate we didn’t choose
The fire burns
Our vessel churns
This can't be it, wake up
This isn't real, wake up!
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