A Sparkling Drop of Folly at 32,000 Feet

ALL AT ONCE, the pressured air engulfed me, consumed me, every read pages of me, every frayed nerve twitching in your flow.  This woke me up, mid-flight — a thought whose weightlessness lingers like scent — and left me wondering whether, even for a second, I was ever asleep.

running on memory’s sidewalk

i walked home in a daydream
hoping you were there
i knocked twice
then i realized
you never really existed
abolished, extinct
never got my heart back
you never gave it
lost in memory, why
still, i hear the beating
i found myself face down on the grass
mouthful of dirt
i didn’t want to get up
i couldn’t
just remembered
just recalled
how you were
then that stopped the beating
breathless, i lay on the floor
i wake up
your lips, your love

In this cabin full of strangers I sit, strapped for effect.  The purest of thoughts subordinated by the harshest of words, livid with fear of uncertainty.

At least here I can see the world from a square-foot window.

I wonder when I’ll be back again.

(your lips,your love)


poem by Francisco Gabriel M.  Nunez

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