Mood Gas

Turn the CD up loud,
steady my arm
as I take my footing on the golden bird.

I know am unusual but
am I crazy to trust
this ancient phoenix?
This model species
bric-a-brac bride,
extinct like the dinosaur
yet rebuilt to survive?

What if she fails to follow the flight plan
and takes me to Brazil where we
struggle for a decent wage
and no doubt fall into
petty crime?

Damn. I am removing my foot from the saddle.
Is this just a spur of the moment fad?

Then again we are inseparable.
Surprised as the butterfly
that births from his grounded shell
to discover the joys of aviation.

Yes, lets go.
I am happy to have met
a sweet-tooth bird
that carries a cannister of mood gas
everywhere she goes.

Boy, I am unusual.