Winds blow south across 68 degrees latitude.
Social Security recipients in nomex and leather boots
walk across detritus limestone to an ancient bird.
Mosquitoes line its bubble bottom like piglets to their mother's tits.
Whop, whop, whop the thirty year old machine
comes to life then slowly rises to the sky.
"87 tango alpha to base" speaks the eldest to the mike.
"Three souls on board, destination ba, ba, ba."
Actual destination, remain young.
Actual time of arrival, now.
la 6/23/07