I have a special friend
who flies a canvas covered skeleton
with two bumble bee wings
and a putt putt propeller
in the spring he flies
just above the buttercups
and in summer conquers gravity
and is lost to all reason
except his own
his flight akin to a guided tour
he glides not on gilded wings
but on a rail less
roller coaster
in another time another place
i would attach a string
ever so strong and fine
from my hand
to this kite like machine
but i shall tie it to my heart instead
for i can not bear to pull him down
to be shot like a starling
from some sagging telephone line
should you think this a far far
better thing i do than i have
ever done before tis so
this may be my finest hour
a stellar performance
played to a closed curtain
and an empty house
but don't remind me now
maybe just maybe
in a hundred years