Fly

I think about

how badly my back hurts

when you give an inch

and I take a mile.

Politics aside,

I don’t think

it’s wise

to stare down

the sun

or the moon

or the barrel

of a gun.

 

Likewise, I suppose

it remains ill advised

to sing songs unannounced,

or in strange places

where singing is

not allowed,

and notes are not

followed,

where harmonies fall

flat,

and codas

abound.

 

Under other circumstances,

be it a coffee shop or train car,

I’d be more apt to hold a guitar

or stroke a harp

or ping a fiddle.

I guess for now

when singing

is frowned upon,

and legroom

is myth

I’ll settle for

humming midair.

 

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