Air Travel

In the dream, I was on a plane with Aviva,
looking down, first over snow-covered New England villages,
the ones with the church steeples and town commons.
I pointed out to her a place where the ground was bare,
faded browns and a touch of last summer’s green,
and how just over that rise, an entire town
was picture-postcard Rockefeller white.
We were flying so very close to the ground,
following the lifts and slopes
of the hillsides below.

Some time must have passed, because next thing
I remember the plane was passing through a modern city–
I guessed Northern Europe somewhere, Germany maybe,
and we were flying right between the buildings
then suddenly skimming the water of a canal.

When the plane came to a stop, we got off
and found a man in a gallery.
“Do you speak English?” I asked. “Yes,” he replied.
“Where are we?” I asked. The Azures, he said.
I tried to think what language they speak in The Azures.
He told us it was a Romance language and I lamented
that I did not know it but figured I could maybe understand
bits and pieces. We stayed to eat in his restaurant.

Next thing I knew, we were in the air again, continuing
east, and outside I saw huge warehouses
harboring thousands of broken booster seats,
like floating landfills. My heart sank a little.
Trash abandoned in an ocean we were never meant to see.

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