- Blond and going nowhere in particular,
- I run my best ahead of jets unzipping sky.
- Something always happens just as they are over
- the equator and I am yards outside of my perimeter.
- Maybe it has rained some or a spell of freak hail.
- For sure the air above is borrowed and my years old.
- When jets are done and sky is yawning,
- a smoky trail shows up. Then doesn't.
- One of these tomorrows the sky
- is going to start to want things back.
- I begin with little pieces by pieces
- as recommended by my astronomer.
- I pick up hitchhikers with litter in their backpacks,
- broken glass inside their pockets.
- I am good for months or miles. When overwith,
- the sky will have my reach around it.
Packingtown Review – Vol.9, Fall 2017
Charles Springer has degrees in anthropology and is an award-winning painter. A Pushcart Prize nominee, he is published in the Cincinnati Review, Edison Literary Review, Everest, Faultline, Forge, Gertrude, Heliotrope, Lumberyard, LUNGFULL!, Oak Bend Review, Stickman Review, Bird's Thumb, The Maynard, Spank the Carp, Blast Furnace, Passager, Rivet, and The Windsor Review among others. Charles writes from Pennsylvania.