Lostness

 Flying over the New Mexico desert,
In a two person single engine prop plane.
Just me and Gary the pilot, who kept repeating the same
Sentence, “we need to find the red one, not the blue.”
I implored him, “We are low on fuel and must land.”
“No,” he snapped “we must find it, she said we must.”
“Please Gary,” I begged, “the low fuel warning is on.”
He didn’t answer, just kept circling about the desert,
Repeating the same nonsensical words while I kept
Pleading with him to land.
 

 
  Memories of Greenwich Village IV

 we said goodbye and you left.
I slipped, fell, stumbled.
I drank Whiskey.
I dried my eyes and got dressed.
I walked past the doorman who said hello.
He probably said hello to you too as you left.
In the street, dirty cabs drove by
and delivery trucks continued to deliver.