Oakland: Colorado County

Tin Can Compression

Rattling in the oppressive tin can, with

recycled, filtered oxygen; the tin can 

lifts 

into the air -  

My wife Jessica is busy taking pictures out of the window of the plane.  She hates to fly, so finds something to occupy the time; she snaps digital pictures of the airplanes wing.  

 Fear and a baby cries, an old man coughs into his handkerchief, and I sit there asking myself,

“How long is the flight?

Next stop Dallas, let me look at the Dallas airport in American Way Magazine.  

“Hmm Dallas looks like an easy to manage airport!?”   

 My wife continues to snap pictures of the wing of the American Airline’s plane.   

 “What if she takes a picture of a Gremlin… or a goose?  

What if that Goose or Gremlin intends to take down this plane?

Are there even geese in San Francisco?  I am just meat on a cargo plane. I wish I could open a window...but the crack in the window would be more stifling than sitting here cramped in my seat.” 

A man in the seat ahead of mine leans back! 

Captain Mitch  announces on the intercom, “We have reached our cruising altitude…”  The fasten seat belt sign becomes unlit.

Jessica asks, “Do you want to see the pictures I took?”    

I snap, “No!  I mean, Yes dear, but let’s wait till we are sitting safely on the ground.  I am afraid that one of your pictures may have a gremlin or a goose on it!”

Crops Revised: Ode to my love-bird Thelonious Sphere Monk:

Along with bass and piano, I was always at the spot, and could keep working on the music.
Subject:  Musician  

Just like the jazz man commanding attention,
she bops, bebops, her head up and down, up and down
really fast like, trying to find the gap in the cage, 
she wants to escape, once she did, 
but the world was too big and she flew back, to us.
she does dance around the room like a Whirlwind.
I want to reach out and control the bird, 
but if you try to touch her she bites down...hard.
But if you sit still and let her move
on her own accord 
she will lite on you shoulder for awhile.
And may sing an atonal tune, 
Until your hand comes near...
She has a bad habit of chewing on the words, 
of great authors. 
she has bitten a few pages of my bible; 
maybe a section that I need to pay more attention to.
  She is my free spirited bird; 
she plays her own song daily. 


Original Source

To fly to drive that is the Quesiton?

Escape Velocity Here I Come

To fly, or not to fly, that is the question.
Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The rattling in an oppressive tin can,
high in the air, not being able to move,
for at least an hour and a half,
Or to drive against traffic for three or four days,
Would I ever get to Grandma's house.
To drive, to sleep at a truck stop
because all of the hotels are booked-solid,
No Vacancy Rules!!!
due to a baseball tournament in Idaho.
No More; of this stupid traffic jam in Atlanta.
The heart-ache and the thousand cars stuck in a mouse trap.
My flesh is heir to; sitting in this car for way to long.
Devoutly to be wished.  To drive, or to fly,
To fly, perchance we will be home sooner.  Ay, there's the rub;
For in that oppressive tin can, dreams may come,
When we finally get down to it,
Must give us pause-there's the respect
That comes with visiting family.

Idea for this piece of writing came from Bary Lane's - Reviser's Toolbox; a great resource for the beginning writer.