Luminescence
- On the airplane over South America,
as the sun rises at 4:30 a.m.,
I am exposed for the better.
Sometime during the night, the flight attendants moved
with stealth about the cabin
closing all the window shades.
Awakening, absolute darkness covers the cabin,
not even the "no smoking" sign or seatbelt icon are illuminated.
I am the only passenger awake.
Raising my shade, the outside atmosphere bursts.
The sun's nucleus cracks the horizon on my face;
warm spirit oozes out.
The sensation of droning engines evaporates into luminescence.
Startling, a flight attendant breaks in:
"excuse me sir, but the light from your window is illuminating
this entire cabin, please close your shade."
My response travels at least 525 miles per hour:
"this light is pure poetry,
how can I close the shade on such a thing?"
The attendant's face becomes blank of purpose,
she surrenders the light from her eyes onto mine,
smiles her unspoken "good morning," as she turns away.
Later, another attendant brings back the black message:
"outside your window the world indeed appears poetic, but as a
- courtesy to those who can not bear it you must close your
shade."
Closing the shade I suppose that no poem can escape an ending.
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