John Romagna

Humans Should Fly

They start early, following my flight path
As I circle and dive
And lift myself again,
Like a singer
Warming up,

Not enough to scare the fish,
Though one sticks the butt-ends of
Four fishing poles
In the sand,

Tight lines slanting to the waves,
And waits.

Low tide must look like a pause
In the earth, waves turning the pages
Of a long book, jetties standing out
Like solid citizens, beaches smooth
From last night’s tide,

From where they are, can they see
An ocean's strength in numbers? Waves
Heading this way one after the other,
Having the weight and power
To finish things.

Shit! This afternoon, they'll be hard to ignore,
Bringing umbrellas, books, setting up chairs,
One guy has a tent as big as an airplane wing,

Spraying their bodies to look like rain
On car windshields, taking selfies,
Checking coolers,
Reading,

Kids throwing frisbees,
Who can't judge the wind and
Don't care,

Swimmers going out too far,
Lifeguards whistling them back. Ok,
So they swim. When will they fly?
On their own, I mean.

I'll stay up here, gliding in a figure-eight,
Holding my wings wide as though
This is easy, which it is,
Hearing their music,
No one, I hope,
Impersonating Elvis.