From Above
but there are no rules 
in the sky, 
so everyone gets drunk. 

Turbulence: an old man sleeps, 
a Mexican reads Mexican poetry 
in English, 
a baby yells, I’m flying, I’m flying— 

how will we be remembered? 
First, rivers and roads 
separate houses 
and countries, 

then everything turns 
to dirt or water. 
Now the ground is a cloud 
and the sky is still just the sky.
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