Jumping, Flying
Janet Kuypers
11/15/17 (Buenos Aires)
When I took over the cockpit controls
I feared the airplane would fight me back,
that gravity would take me to a tumble.
But the skies were sunny, the air was clear
and once my hands took over the job
of piloting that plane, this behemoth
seemed to purr like a kitten, and it was like
I was six years old again riding a bike,
‘cuz you never forget the feeling
of holding onto that handlebar,
and giving yourself the power
to take you wherever you want to go.
Like a conductor, I directed that airplane
above the clouds, seeing the winding streets
below no wider than strands of hair.
Wonder if I could see the Everglades... And
you may ask: why do this? Because I can. If I choose,
I can take flight like a bird and touch the sky.
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Once I sat in an airplane that had no door,
looked at the altimeter attached to my harness,
saw this craft rising over 17 thousand feet.
Just about two hundred feet to go, I think,
and my stomach starts to feel queasy
but others are there to join in and even film it.
Beforehand I was told that if I was enjoying
jumping out of an airplane, to do jazz hands
for the cameraman. So I jumped, I fell,
I couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t forget
to do jazz hands, even though jazz hands
in free-fall at one hundred twenty miles per hour
looks more like experimental dance — or convulsions.
Pull the rip cord, See some of the Rockies from above,
get a free beer from the Left-Handed Ale
brewery for making the jump. But even
the cameraman asked me after I was done,
‘What on Earth were you doing?’ and really,
if you think about it, why on earth do I do this?
Because I can. ‘Cuz with every leap I’ll take,
I’ll always land on my feet, and keep looking to the sky.
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