I step off the plane and I read the pain of this country:

Rites. Religions. Politics. Poverty. Pain.

I step off the next plane and I realize the lightness of this city:

Richness. Riches. Pristine. President/Playwright.

I step off the next plane and I consider the heaviness of this country:

Cold. Cluttered. Damp. Dead. Dire.

I step off the next plane and I catch the breath of this new country:

Clean. Caring. Dry. Dazzling. Delicate.

I step off the next plane and I hone in on the weight of these states:

Heavy. Hard. Split. Spent. Sick.

I step off the next plane and I hear the music of this city:

Hopeful. Harmonious. Sharp. Savvy. Slick

I step off the next plane and I know the emptiness of this place:

03/14/2008

Posted on 03/14/2008
Copyright © 2025 David Garner