How to Fly This page is my paper ticket somehow it will escape— I’ll fly with it first class on a paper airplane it’s what I dreamed of in the warehouse years ago the one thing we all shared— the want of a way out hopes fought stuffy air crawled staleness toward an ear the cardboard boxes we stacked were shipped where our eyes pointed where our feet dreamed of walking though caught in parallel rows august haze cleared enough to reveal the untouchable horizon we held our futures in fists refused to let go we knew who we would be scotty wished to touch the moon james was to direct movies I was to go to new york city to write— they asked me to write about them to carry them with me on the page we lugged regrets as weights in our boxes but vowed never to be stuck in the middle in dim florescence semis sighed opaque exhaust we inhaled and the sun set and rose in transparent pastels then set and rose again