Glued In Poem by James Daniel Brough

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.