Sand all gone

  

Sky deep blue, sun very bright, sand all gone 

____ 

1927, fearlessly aloft, as bankers had not yet leapt from their office windows 

In-between wars 

Not a guinea pig. 

Not a newsreel, yet, before black and white distractions and piano by the auto roll.

Grayman, not icarus 

Not tempting fate like his father. Resigned to supercede 

Limit. 

My mom, on the phone, babbling about sand like a 12 pound dead baby. An antenna? Broken.

Misunderstood, in time. 

Note the details,

Heading out, heading in. Departing, arriving. There's poetry.