True, but wouldn’t you rather
jerk awake to the beating of invisible wings
and later, if the light is right,
watch a river scratch itself until it bled?
And as to the example of those who keep
their feet firmly on the ground,
like a telephone pole, or a feeding trough,
or a tombstone –
when you’re in love, you’re happy to board
the wounded plane last seen disappearing
over the mountains and never heard from again.