Time is flying: I feel it in the call and the waking and the leaving and the lines on my father's face.
Today we went to see the airplanes: I painted the sky green with my hands.
Remember how you used to say, you'd sneak me out in your luggage wherever you went:
and I used to say, I'd sneak you out in mine; no matter that we both knew we never were going anywhere if it wasn't together?
And these days I can picture exactly the day I leave for flying: the where and when and how and why: almost.
And the look on your face is a painting from a dream where all the colors are grey and blue and red and yellow: but you will let me go.
Today I am the little girl hiding in your heart: the one you make all the monkey faces for.
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