things happen to other people

the air ambulances scuttle like toddlers

learning the intricacies of their feet

in the space between the ground and the sky,

lifting upwards into the haze of gasoline

from a flurry of afternoon barbecues.

in that little moment created by bottled chemicals

escaping into the fresh above, the world shifts

and opens. the helicopter wings catch

on the drift and stumble a moment,

before barrelling onwards, propellers

gusting against the flow of the breeze.

here i am, cold in the sunshine.

an otherwise perfect afternoon stuttered

back into reality by the loud, loud sky. things

are happening to other people,

and the great metal birds assert status

over the wide expanse. things are

happening to other people,

and the length of the world stretches on

past the midday sun. other things happen

to other people every day, and the air ambulances

always have somewhere to go,

and it isn't always sunny, and things are happening

everywhere to everyone.

May 2023