Airport Poem III: By Way of
I am terra firma by way of earthship,
by way of mist and fog to clear blue easy.
I’m in transit; don’t know what state I’m in,
by way of upgrade, by way of centigrade.
I’m flying over the inner cities of America,
over dirt and trail, over brick and click,
over cardboard, glass, aluminum, and tin.
I am hope by way of heart.
I am conjoined twins named Progress and Excess.
I am the trees that fall in the forest
but everyone denies hearing.
I am a nation in foreclosure.
I am every cigarette butt and bottle cap
left by the side of the road.
I am pawn shops and corner shops
with sidewalks paved in scratched lottery tickets.
I am everyone named “Lucky” and “Chance.”
I am every child who won’t come home tonight.
Every three minutes, someone kills two birds
with one stone. The crime is never reported.
I am Killington, by way of Stone Mountain,
by way of Death Valley.
I am every sex shop and tittie bar
named Golden Banana and XXX.
I am every mill town and boarded up factory,
the assembly line disassembled, the layoffs,
layaways, and laid to rest.
I put the depressed in depression.
I am America reconstructed; I am a force at work.
I dig a ditch, I fill a ditch.
My collar is white, my collar is blue.
I am the missing $ .23 cents out of every $1
that a woman is supposed to earn
I am every God damn it and Lord have mercy.
I am America by way of Africa,
Mexico, Ireland, Poland, and India.
Land that I love,
I fly over you,
look down at you,
dream my American dreams about you.
Every second of every day,
I am cardboard
I am glass
I am aluminum
I am tin.