Past midnight and in my book the story takes flight
The characters have all found their seats, checked
Their luggage, stowed their carry-ons overhead
And are settling in, this is the red-eye, non-stop
Coast to coast, crossing time zones, flying so high
This late that no one can hear it or see it, but it’s
There, going where the pilot wants, the author
Imagined so much, brought them all on board, and
I’m along for the ride, a stowaway hidden away in
The luggage or wheel well, a bit cramped, crowded
By their baggage, eavesdropping when I can get
Close enough, feeling their lives go on around me
I want to be a bit player in all this, a flat character
Perhaps, a piece of the plot, assuming a role beyond
Just sitting here so late I’m way too tired to sleep.
