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A piston-engined plane goes past
Beneath a dappled summer sky. It's hot
And humid here below, July outside
Of Omaha. The matrons navigate
The road nearby inside their armored
Cars. I wait. I'm told that it will rain,
Those dappled clouds predicted to
Coagulate and bring us thunder, hail,
And wind, all sorts of chaos. I confess
I'm skeptical. I run my drink across my
Forehead, hoping to relieve the heat
Before I stumble off to bed, imagining
How it would be to be upon that plane.

© Lawrence Beck 2023