Flying Lessons

of the azure I dreamed
of flying lessons of the silver
stars of the sky I dreamed them
and again I dreamed them.
over. over. 

one time I even placed a 
star on my forehead
like so. so surprisingly frail a thing
for a great aviator. 

if I am old now, battered by 
park benches and bus tickets
it is not because I have fallen
and again fallen. even the zipping
comets will crash even the never-landing
albatross someday greets 
the waves and a swallowing kiss. 

don't listen to the liars. gravity is 
not the enemy. 

what makes me old, what crinkles
my hollow bones: 

so many empty windows with
no jumpers. 
​
so many angels bound to 
graveyard stone.