Paper Planes

I read my poem

To an old friend

He thought it

Was about him

It caught me so

Off guard when

He began to sob

It was meant to

Be humorous

Seeing him cry

Brought tears to

My eyes as well

So there we sat

Two grown men

Sobbing together

over a silly poem

About time travel

* * *

poems are paper planes

sent in the night to touchdown

in secret places

–Photo by me



Suddenly they began dropping from the afternoon sky by the millions: vast hordes of tiny invading aliens, blocking out the sun and reducing visibility to near-zero with their little white parachutes. We all ran into the house and watched from the windows, as the siege continued into the night with no sign of letting up.

We thought we were doomed.

But then, a few hours before dawn, a fierce October wind kicked up out of nowhere, and the entire alien army was blasted high into the turbulent sky, completely out of control. After thrashing about violently at the mercy of the powerful gusts, the alien army was soon annihilated.

In the morning, we awoke to nearly a foot of parachutes.


(Photos by me, rev. from 10/17)