Broken Open

Unsent

Skydiving

(10-23-02)

Two miles high and falling
Fast.
Sound rushes
Past my ears.
Ground rushes
Towards my face.
Everything is temporarily
Erased.
120 miles per hour
Into certain death.
This is not
The flight of dreams.
I feel no fear.
Only pray
For a horrible mishap.
Some forgotten clip.
A small mistake.
The sudden jolt of safety
Is somewhat disconcerting.
I float
High above the earth.
Spin in the wind.
Still a chance, I think.
Perhaps only broken open from
This distance.
I drift into a
Perfect landing.
I search the waiting crowd
For your face.
Dreams are a cruel mockery
Of a pathetic life.