On the airplane with my squeezed-out heart
and hanging smile,
secret
between gallows pals.
You are so fucking lucky it’s me.
I press my hot forehead to the window.
The pressure will leak through the crack,
there must be a crack
if I apply the right pressure
everything will deflate.
The airplane will disappear from the sky
with an inglorious snicker
and waft to the earth,
a sardine can.
It’s a criminal sadness for a bad girl,
cresting in waves
of nausea and triumph.
No phone calls, no notes but you must know
Those moments were mine
pressed against the brick
your hands clutched
in my punk hair
grasping and breathless
both of us fuckin lucky
under pressure
leaking through the crack
high in the air suspended
by a premise.
