birdmad sitting out on the porch watching the planes overhead

when they come in low enough, their lights cast crazy shadows all over my yard

maybe i've gotten used to the noise.
i don't really hear them anymore

maybe it's just coincidence (i think)
but it seems that every time i sit out like that, most of the planes seem to fly in the direction of the moon

like moths to the old porchlight
jane under_the_moon 090305
In_Bloom Skin held so much fascination
It's bumpling up from wetness and breeze
The iridescence of water, spit and love
And smell- faint ammonia, wine and hunger
By now you think I'd have forgotten
what's it to you?
who go