Flit fly

Change, change, change.

Delta gate two.

Fat man in surgery mask parks nearby.

Nerves straight into the skull via the teeth.

Who would like a root canal?

The caterpillar mouth of a terminal tunnel waits to suck onto our departing shuttle, a long cross of a plane.

To the forest.

An emerald and yellow gem along the trail.

What are your stories northwest?

Tell us of rain, witchcraft and phony magic.

We came for the trees anyway. That’s enough.

Dazzle, dazzle and drop in, punching through a layer of clouds tucked so close to a candy shell of planet. 

Deliver us farther and soon. Father and son. 

We’ll meet you half way.