in the pools of light there, go wherever you choose

The dusk sky was messy yesterday.

Different types of clouds of multiple colours playing at various heights. It was like they were still trying to figure out what kind of sunset they wanted to create.

The lowest level was wispy and dark. Like dust on a view that’s been ignored for too long.

As has many an east coaster before me, I looked to the west. Something caught my eye.

A plane, with it’s ever growing vapour trail, was heading this way. More or less.

Having long been pro contrail, I watched.

The sun, not yet ready to call it a day, spectacularly back-lit the jet and tail.

I considered pointing it out to the people around me, but I didn’t. I’m not sure why.

I watched.

The closer the plane got to me, the less it glowed. However, to make up for it, the patch of the sky it was traveling through cleared to a blue that typically only exists earlier in the day.

I began to wonder about the passengers. I stood on the deck and imagined a boy planning the first words he was going to say to a girl. He chuckled because he knew he’d forget everything he wanted to say. When he saw her. When she saw him.

Just then, the vapour trail disappeared. I could see the plane, but it was leaving no foot print. I considered the reasons. Some kind of crosswind? I tried to remember what I learned of turbulence in physics classes many moons ago, before I’d take off my glasses and blend into a school hallway to meet up with a pretty blond girl between two sets of lockers.

I wondered about the boy on the plane. Was he being rocked by turbulence? Maybe it was providing him with a little distraction from obsessing about impressing the girl. Perhaps he was seeing it as just one more obstacle on his way to finally getting to be with her.

Then the vapor trail started again.

I was oddly relieved.

I watched for a bit longer, as the plane continued eastward.

I was happy for the boy.

The sky looked messy in that direction too.

A little messy.

But manageable.

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3 Responses

  1. Lesinfin says:

    Beautiful imagery!

  2. Alexia says:

    First line… shit, all I can think of is ‘ola ta lefta’ which means ‘all the money’ which means… it’s the shit. Basically.

  3. Sid says:

    The Tragically Hip … Vapour Trails. (50 imaginary points to me. In university, my friends and I used to waste many an hour playing “hier’s die wysie wat is die skyfie”. That’s Afrikaans for “here’s the lyric what’s the name of the song”. Okay, so that’s not a direct translation … )

    Question: Does the song inspire your writing or do you simply choose the lyric/song after you’ve written something?

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