Shaking Hands with My Imagination

I used to be fascinated with airplanes.
I would sit down in my seat,
Look out the window,
Study the people in front of me,
Behind me,
Watch as they shove their carry-ons
Into the cabin compartments.
What were their names?
Where were they going?
Business or pleasure?

Then I would make sure my table
Unfolded properly,
Dig through my seat pocket,
And pull out the Sky Mall Magazine.
I realized that I could not only
Order a Coke for my journey in the sky,
But I could also order a car seat for my dog,
Heated gloves,
Even a set of collectible Petroika Eggs.

Flying home became a normality
When I went to college.
Fly to school,
Fly home for Thanksgiving,
Fly back to school,
Fly home for Christmas,
Fly back to school,
Fly home for Easter…

Suddenly the fascination died.
I found myself doing homework
During a flight in April
Freshman year.
Instead of wondering about
The aerodynamic forces of the airplane's wings,
I was pouring myself into a textbook.

I shut the textbook,
Looked up, over, down,
Around, in, through, beneath,
Beyond, into, above.
And regained the vivid
Imagination
I had before.

I imagined what the pilot would do
If he spilt coffee on his freshly pressed white shirt.
I imagined if drinks were even allowed in the cockpit.
I imagined how terrible it would be to have diarrhea and
Be the furthest passenger from the aisle.
I imagined how horrible it would be to let
Your imagination die as you grow older.

So then I shook hands with my imagination
In agreement that as long as I could think,
My imagination would stay alive.

Photo Credit: www.stuffintheair.com