Chester French; Fingers

August. Already. Shit.

I've been saying 'shit' a lot lately. I should stop before it becomes a habit.

It's just dawned on me that it has been exactly 7 months and 8 days since 2009 started. What have I accomplished in these months? Nothing worth saying it's an accomplishment at least. I should, you know, go do something.

The 'holidays' have just started. I'm marking down the calender for when school reopens&trying not to bum around all day. First thing on my agenda for this weekend? Look at puppies at the pet store. This is no joke. My mom asked this morning, "Want to go look at puppies?" & I just said why not?

Last night, I dreamed that I was on a plane to Japan. & something went horribly wrong with the engine. It started spiraling out of control, flying at 12345689 km/hour. Everyone was strapped into their seats not able to move from the impact. The seats were bending backwards and some even came off their hinges and flew to the back of the aircraft. Then everything stopped. People changed their seats. It started all over again.

Then I woke up with cheek pressed against my pillow & I was kneeling over.

Crash.

It was a day to remember
That windy afternoon that our plane took flight
We were laughing and sipping champagne
I saw you were smiling while trying to diamond
My somewhat unwilling finger
Our little adventure left much to remember
As our plane came crashing to ground
The desert is cruel and will treat you the fool
If you forget to forget to remember
How silly life is surrounded by frills
And empty thrills that are gone with the sunset
When hunger and thirst cracked our souls
And our lips as we looked through the thread
Of our lives and we lay in the heat and the cold
And the hourglass slipped like the days in a haze
While we raved and the bones of our hips
Became visible with the thirst and the hunger
I wondered about love as I heard you cry
For your mother and I tried to comfort you
As you slapped my face and blamed me
Oh how human it all was I seem to remember
That fateful day of that strange September
When we crashed in a plane but kept our lives
And lost at love

© Jane Solomon 2009 Copyright