Tuesday, July 1, 2008

the plummet

Every night after dinner he took a flight around the neighborhood.

At first his neighbors thought it strange to see him flying overhead.

Soon they became accustomed to it and even looked forward

to seeing him soar above their roofs each evening.


He had known how to fly since he was six years old.

No one had ever taught him he just knew he could so he did.

He went out on his back porch, one summer evening, bent his knees,

Cocked his elbows and pushed off into the sky


His parents took him to doctors and psychics of all sorts

To find out what had made their kid so strange

The experts were puzzled and perplexed

And after testing, probing and prodding they could offer no explanations.


So he continued to take to the air each day,

learning about life from a different vantage point.

Often having strange ideas and plans

that he never shared with his parents.


Finally he turned 21 and decided to take a celebratory flight

The fresh air rushed past his ears, the sun shone in his eyes,

When suddenly he had an odd thought…why should he be able to fly?

And then… he no longer could.


4 comments:

cafe selavy said...

Brewster McCloud. A film by Robert Altman. His second, I think. Not quite the same theme, but your poem made me think of it.

Anonymous said...

I just love this !

tatiana

alek said...

i like the story a lot, like its dialogue with the image also

Toby Lloyd-Jones said...

Wonderful! It's good to come back and see the blog after too long a while. Toby