Poem: Clouds & Lattes, Narcos & Dylan

The jet lifting off

From Miami International 

Just disappeared into

The gray clouds now 

Collecting and dispersing and collecting again

Above the high rise condos

Lording over Biscayne Bay

No one will see that jet again

Until it descends into 

Charles de Gaulle 

No doubt in a humid

Morning mist

With dreams of lattes

Dancing in everyone’s heads

*

There’s no better scene

Than a storm forming 

On the horizon

When you are high and dry

*

We tend to watch shows 

On Netflix about reckless narcos

Where black and white

Only end up gray

Despite everyone’s best

And worst intentions

*

I only saw Dylan play once

There was a tornado

That tore through

The high plains east of Denver

Earlier in the day

But when Bob sang

How does it feel

To be without a home

On your own

Only a light rain was falling 

And we sang along

Fists raised in triumph

*

How does it feel?

How does it feel?

 

M. Bogen
Miami Beach
February 2022