Departures

In the distance, where
clouds pretend to be mountains
-and vice versa- a plane is going
somewhere: leaving sunshine
behind. For what?

For names of beauty
once on silk and spice routes? Or
two out of three points of the Golden
Triangle? Guiris - the
othered Ingles

- leaving Spain for good
or ill-planned raids on accounts
and benefits: red faces of
fierce entitlement scanned
by pale officials.

In the mornings, one
plane crosses the far sierra
-flying north- I never check
an airport timetable for a
destination.