Over the coastal waters we moved like ghosts,
Abandoning each his house of mud and dust,
Carried high by the proud and perfect frame
Of every modern nation’s bane – the plane.
Just twice my neighbor shared her breath with me:
At th’ horizontal portal, when the air
Was purified of oxygen and fear
For sunlight, and on the blackened landing strip.
Baltimore, Reagan or Dulles sends you, friend,
O’er evening Annapolitan cobblestones,
A winking light who moves among the fixed,
In order that one who lifts his eyes may find
The offer to join you in your homelessness,
To join you with his heavy arms outspread.