Late Flight

Thirty-seven thousand feet
and flying east
through the sunset
into the night
The sea of
pearltopped cloudfire
below
fades
the boundaries
of vision
become infinite in darkness
only the reflected crack
of red strobe lights
interrupts
imagination
Interior lights dimmed
attendants withdraw
behind their curtains
reading lights die singly
until only a few
shine like tiny buoys
in the close darkness
conversation
turns desultory
fades
into the privacy of thought
I feel alone
in this dim thin-skinned tunnel
shuddering gently
through the sky yet
know
I share it
with two hundred
other unknown lives
know
I sweep above millions more
on the planet turning
seven miles below
sense
the gravity
of their random mass
as I pass over.