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Pilot
the rumble of the jet made her remember her childhood dream of being a pilot her tiny girl imaginings in a long forgotten dance class when the teacher said dance what you want to be when you grow up a pilot she shouted out as she crouched on the worn hard wood of the studio floor and when the music began off she flew among the wavering flowers and delicate fairy queens of her fellow dance mates soaring past mirrors and barres winding through trees and along rivers she peered over her open cockpit noting nothing but free air as she drifted and settled while the music slowed to a single note and then to silence her adult mind conjured up the scene set before the pilot of the rumbling jet flying overhead in the dark early hours of the night picturing the expanse of the night sky that must have presented itself to the captain of the flight and she was sure that she also saw the darkness of the heavens littered with stars and studded with clouds as she on...
Blowhard
you chattered all the way through no stopping you on you babbled aside after aside not the smallest acknowledgment not the slightest heed lowering your voice you whispered fancying yourself a whisperer to hold your lone listener in thrall or so you thought but not really speaking under your breath for all to hear and you oblivious to your indiscretion to the turned heads the discomfort of your unintended audience only a kick stopped your inane utterances and in that moment I knew you to be not worth the effort of our love hate relationship that in spite your admirable qualities yes there are some you are rude and inconsiderate that explains a lot that makes you irrelevant © Karen Casady 2019
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