When the B-2’s do their flyovers,
I like to think ducking is mandatory.
How fun is that? I’m playing second
grade games and a plane is silently
telling me to die soon. Today I was
ducking all day, and I was telling
people I love them without using the
‘L’ word, and the planes were wicked.
I was a silly goose, dead as a duck,
and I kept ducking, ducking. I’m okay
now. My blood is flowing and my mind
is numb enough that it has slowed
enough to rest inside my blue tea cup.