On hearing late night planes

What’s that noise?
A little buzzing aeroplane
Tiny buzzing flying buzzing
Little little aeroplane.

Two in the morning,
You’re hidden by night clouds
And I’m laying in bed with the
Latest bout of insomnia,
Envisaging your propellers
Cutting through the mist
As you effect your
Sweet nocturnals.

You fill the night with an insistent throb,
Jarring vibrations, secret missions.
I’m down here on sweated sheets,
You’re up there so cool and calm,
All professionalism and various scientific principles,
Calculated, unflappable optimism.

I’ve been grounded all night.
Sleep would be the ultimate take-off.
I’ve been trundling down the runway
Trundling
Trundling
Turning around and giving it another go.
Trundling
Trundling.
Garnham Air, you’ve got permission to take off
I know
I know.
I’m trying.

Trundling.
Trundling.

How mesmerising my town must be from up there
Hypnotised, trance-like, by the lights of the
Tesco’s megastore
From up the you can probably see
The curvature of the pier.
You might even see what
My neighbours been up to in the back yard
These last few weeks
Or at least what’s causing the smell.

All day long, you never stop moving from
Exotic locations bound up with chimerical
Extravagance and wonder.
From Manchester international a short hop
To Edinburgh International.
From Edinburgh international a shot hop
To Southampton international.
From Southampton international a short hop
To Newquay Airport.
For, Newquay Airport a short hop
To Manchester International.
From Manchester international a short hop
To London Stanstead.
From London Stanstead a short hop
To Manchester International.
From Manchester International a short hop
To Southampton international.
From Southampton international a short hop
To Manchester International.
And so on.

Two in the morning.
What I really need is a friend.
Text messages in the dark,
Phone vibrations matching
Your incessant buzz.
‘Hey Rob, you there? x’
How my heart would dance!
Not like yesterday when
All it said was,
‘Your bill is available to view online’.

I imagine you pristine
Skimming voluminous cumulonimbus
Just you and the stars and
The satellites
Floating as if on nothing
With your seamless buzzing
Incessant buzzing
Endless powerful buzzing.

Which, actually,
Might just be the central heating pump.

Author: Robert Garnham

Performance and spoken word artist.

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