Sylvie Hill

I’ve Taken Flight

Would you call it raw?
or flawed?
That I bummed a smoke
at an airport
back from Toronto
and three glasses of wine in
reading a book on Elon Musk.
Thinking “By God! Musk is like him!”
What they say of him as “mean”
Is being realistic
And logical just like you!
And folks say, “don’t make excuses
for Aspergers – he’s just an asshole”
But I know your truth.

Would you call it raw?
or flawed?
That I listened to “Flaws”
While puffing smoke
Like outside Soho
Where you pretended not to know us.
But really it wasn’t cruel
It was you being You.
And this time I heard the airplanes
roaring into the sky and the force
made me think of your touch that night and truth.

Would you call it raw?
Or flawed?
That when I read of geniuses
I see you there in full?
In your music you nailed it.
In your context you got it.
And could I survive you
knowing your ups and downs
and round and rounds
and your taking everything literal-logic like Spock,
and needing me to just explain it, flawless?

Over pho on Ossington – Toronto.
A city you’d get – having lived in London.
I told him – I’ve not held anyone like that for years.
And explained the drain of holding like that in fear.
In fear of never letting go
And Southern Hemisphere – off he goes.
And can’t compute a ‘so close’
To a “never see him again,” I know.

Would you call it raw?
Or flawed?
That I made your face
in passengers in flight to Ottawa.
That I wished only to say “I GET YOU”
while remembering the night you I got.
How red wine brings me back to the night.
How a Jeep packsack can make me smile.
How a head spinning brings delight
And you might be happy in the ways

I’ve since taken flight.

Sylvie Hill December 12, 2018