Experimental

Sunday Scribblings March 9, 2008
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His first plane
was an ultralight
that had two seats
so was considered
experimental.

I insisted
it be a two-seater
so we could go
together.

We certainly
couldn’t afford it
but I couldn’t afford
to object.

On weekends
we’d go to the airport,
belt ourselves in
and take off.

People became dolls,
cars and trucks
were Hot Wheels,
the forest
a shag carpet.

We needed a new car,
money for bills,
a new furnace.

But, as we skimmed
through the silk air
and sat like royalty
in our seats,
legs dangling,

he’d reach across
the controls,
grab my hand,
and smile,

the wind
ballooning his cheeks,
the whole sky
in his eyes.