no. i’m not here.
i’m on a plane, miles away.
or right here. flying over starbucks and skyscrapers. i’m flying high and low. striking my wings against the air and forcing the wind away. away from me. away from skyscrapers. away from flames and smoke. so the smoke won’t reach my brother’s nostrils and choke his lungs. so he can remain pure. no smoke, no fire, no wind.
no skyscrapers.
i’m not here, i’m on a beach, getting burned, i’m on a boat, getting drowned, i’m in an alley, getting raped, and i’m not here. not on a plane, getting tossed and turned in the light wind toward a skyscraper and starbucks.
i’m not here, nor will i ever be, if ‘here’ is where cowards control the towers and the capitol.
i’m not here, on the subway, wondering if i will reach my stop before the train gets blown up.
Whadya got: