Truth of My Youth

VACATION OF ICARUS

I haven't seen any plane crossing the sky
for a few days, tought i
while having a break in the park

no glistening aircrafts that reverberate sunlight
and smear the sky with kerozen lines,
no diurnal shooting stars
in which you wish you were,
wrapped in free blankets
and going somewhere.

I remembered looking at the planes leaving from LAX
µduring a perfect summer afternoons
in the water, thinking
I need to find a way to stay here
but everyday of that blessed summer
the planes still defied the Pacific Ocean
with their bellies full,
they drew the same angle with the Venice pier.

I haven't seen any plane in the sky
thought i
because icelandic dust is flooding
Europe's skies
a fact that would have saddened Kerouac's own road eyes.
Eyjafjallajokull woke up from an untimely sleep
µto spit ashes not knowing
that since the last time he's been breathing,
Google's Earth had been spinning,

We usually never hear about Iceland
but Eyjafjallajokull's rocky lungs,
older than old,
needed to breathe.
Why he drew a breath on that day of April 2010
nobody knows,
or maybe some scientists and their probes

He shook the schedules
of a French businessman, a Danish mother,
a Spanish sister
and made airport refugees,
they sleep on carpetted floors
with airline company logos
with nobody to sing their story,
only the newsmen who film
forgetting sympathy.

I've been snoozing,
leaning my head against the wall
the dog is playing with that same stick
that it won't fecth
and the Boze is still playing music
on the steps.

I just saw a blinking aeroplane in the night sky
it glides and blends kerosene with ink.
The dogs still chews
and everyone is out to get booze.