The Last Flight

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Sun was burning up. 

Furious and mad.

As much as he could take.

It was the worst sun that he’d had.

 

Too hot to stay outside,

But too cold to go indoors.

He summoned up the cavalry.

Though his were only mental wars.

 

With no thought to the world

He just rolled off the edge

And his timing was right

For the last flight

 

Another rented room.

Enclosed in paper walls.

He could hear his neighbors fucking.

Was serenaded with their calls.

 

He couldn’t smoke inside.

So back into the fire he went.

He leaned against a lamp-post

And was bought and sold  and spent.

 

With no thought to the world

He just rolled off the edge

And his timing was right

For the last flight

 

 

Skin wet to the bone.

Blood thoughts inside his head.

Inane flashes of a past life

That was better left for dead.

 

He’d come so far to nowhere.

He had made nowhere his home.

He had made it with nobody.

But for the sun he was alone.

 

With no thought to the world

He just rolled off the edge

And his timing was right

For the last flight

 

 

Copyright 2006 James Lushey