Trip)ping

The day was sunny and clear,

The winds were calm,

The pilot inexperienced,

As we flew from Centennial Airport

To the tiny airport at Fort Lyons.

From the sky we could see

Farmer’s fields with irrigation ditches

Surrounding the short runway.

When we came in

Too low

We crashed

Into the top

Of a dirt mound

Next to a ditch,

And sheared off

The bottom of the plane,

And bounced one, two, three times

Across the field,

Before sliding down

The runway,

And off onto a low rise

At the side.

Stunned we sat there

Till Jack, a pilot himself, said,

‘We’d better get out.

The plane might explode.’

And we rapidly abandoned

The wounded bird.

 

Later I looked for a job

But could not find one,

My wife, Diane developed M.S.,

So I ended back

On a small two engine plane

Consulting to the VA hospital

Across the state in Fort Lyons.

We were flying home

Almost one year

From the time of the crash

When I saw from my window

The right propeller:

Dead stopped.

Quiet panic

Moved through the plane,

But this pilot was experienced

And we flew to the next airport

And with one propeller

We landed safely.

After a long bus ride home,

I quit the job the very next day.

I did not want to risk

‘Three strikes and you’re out.’

 

Much later

I went on another trip

To the plate.

This time,

Not work but vacation

To see the fall leaves fall

Back east with old friends.

But in old Quebec City.

Ceylon abruptly left

Without explanation

From our night out

To find a restaurant

And I knew

All was not well

With our companions.

We ate there puzzled,

His wife, Caroline,

Her mother, Marge

My wife, Diane,

And me.

The rest of the trip

We pretended

All was well,

After all Diane

Was walking again.

Later we parted,

And Diane and I left

To explore New Hampshire

By ourselves.

 

About a year latter

The five of us

Went on a Louis Rukeyser

Investment Cruise

On the MS Ryndam

To the western Caribbean.

The days were cloudy,

The winds were strong,

And the market was down.

I needed a vacation

From my busy psychiatry practice.

We were not sure

Our friends could go

Because Carolyn’s mother

Had two cardio conversions

In the hospital

Earlier that week,

But we gathered

Our bags to go.

Because of high winds.

We went off course.

Instead of the beautiful

White beaches

On the cove

Of Half Moon Cay

We landed at Ocho Rios.

On the second day out

Ceylon told Caroline

He wanted a divorce.

She was devastated

By his cardio conversion

And so was our trip.

We had to pretend

Everything was OK

To make sure Carolyn’s mother

Would not get upset

And have a heart attack.

As we became therapist

to our friend.

It was a busman’s holiday,

This Timothy Leary trip

In a not yellow,

Not submarine,

Not vacation,

Not.

Tripped up again.

This time we struck out.

 

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