Stabile

I wake to light jackhammering, and news follows: a plane failed over the sea. All want to go home, but drastic curfews obtain from a meridian. *     *     * We are a long way from a sea that cedes black boxes from an area forested as the Andes. Instead, a Mercedes, black as La Brea, leaps from the backlit red, anonymous, when we try to cross at the traffic island discarding hibiscus with every wind-toss. *     *     * We are a long way from the courteous lilac or waxwing with sensitive feather tipped as a kayak is tipped by a coxswain.