now i am the man out in the garden
whos waving at all
the planes sliding by
there they scratch pale stripes
in the stonewash sky
that grow - undulate
till it looks like
fine beach sand looks
after the tides
~
all the city airport
pilots know me
i reckon / by now
& they radio each other
'hes got the blue hat on today, over'
or something like that
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