Some days I feel like a pilot in a remote control plane, being flown by a little boy who often forgets to charge the batteries let alone bother to fly it properly.
Occasionally I might manage a loop the loop, which looks impressive, but everything is always a half accident.
Occasionally because of the silly boy I hit another plane in mid air, and we get stuck together. I stare through the glass of my cockpit at the other pilot, and we might get along together for a time, till that time together is up, and we fly our separate ways, chasing intimacy in our separate shells, changing tenses, but never really changing at all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely thought-provoking prose here. Great extended metaphor! I enjoyed this. Sunshine! L