Airport, March 2nd

/*This is supposed to look like an airplane pulling a banner, but I think I'm going to have to work on it some more.*/

Orion
stood high
in the sky and the
airport beacon was flashing a lonely, steady green white white, green white white over us...We five poured secrets into the night: writhing, flagellated stories with tails of “don’t ever tell anyone.” We poured our hearts into the night, in puffs of misty, quickened breath because the stars were too far away to hear and the night air was too cold for our misdemeanors to metastasize.
We nestled together
like lovers and we
shook, sometimes
with chill, but mostly with laughter.
And in the grand scheme of things,
conscious of Orion’s watchful eyes
and stern
stance –
I
s
h
o
u
l
d
have felt like nothing.
The truth was that I felt
like a part of everything,
right then. Part of a whole
so meaningful and huge
that the cosmos burned
that night with envy rather
than pride – and every pulsing
star glowed in jealous rage –
if only we weren’t too far to see.
I used to wonder what kind
of mark I would leave on these
people – like my name in
paint on this place, on
their minds. I know now I
will remember their mark
on me – nights like that, with
my favorite people and
our secrets spilling
into the air to die –
far longer than any
paint could stain a wall.