Colt Flight 45

Colt Flight 45

I was never any good at math,
but from 40,000 feet the land’s
geometry seems plain enough
and the mountains just as solid
and bicentennial. East to West
or West to East, even at 600 mph
the Mason-Dixon line stays put
and the Great Divide stops north
of the border where it should,
depending on weather or not,
and that’s a big off-course.

Most days it’s clear enough criss-
crossing (call it skull-and-boning)
the sky to see why the Rockies lie
the way they do, or why the mountain
men scalped the rivers clean of beaver
for all their pelts’ worth, or why
we have no passenger pigeons, only 747’s.

Yes, at 40,000 it’s clear enough
how we’ve dry-gulched the land and
ripsawed the air so long we’ve
forgotten why we call our cars
horses and our football teams
Cowboys and Indians, or Jets.

Forty degrees below outside’s
no joke, could trigger new optometry.