My Wingman

The Poem

when i hold your hand
and whisper with
a portuguese tongue,
"eu sou seu,"
it is not
a magic trick
meant to fool you—
as i sail
through life
i will listen to
your life in the wind;
it fills my sails—
your words help me
fly.

and as your pilot
i need remind you:
we are about to rise
together;
you as my wing man,
my 1++;

when we land
we are a runway apart,
me in my plane and
you in the terminal.
you can join me and
we can be together—
but we can never
ever
settle on the ground.

Commentary

So I wrote one poem that was a bit snarky, and I wanted to backtrack. The person whom I wrote the snarky poem also had on his profile that he likes coding and is an amateur pilot. He also must have mentioned that he spoke Portuguese. So uh... yeah. There's that.

Oh, and this poem is part of a series that I explain here.