Paratrooper

The Paratrooper

I was falling through air so dense I couldn’t see a thing, opened up
my big, black umbrella and descended in orderly fashion.
A scythe of a moon gave enough light so I could see the coastline
and the dark, menacing sea waiting to fill my lungs with water, but
by manipulating the umbrella I landed safely on the beach, folded
my collapsible canopy and got away as foam of greed tried to reach
me. To get home I had to walk through a mono cultural nightmare,
a forest of orange trees, every dismal plant the same height, dark
green and silent, they bore nothing but yellow fruit no one bothered
to pick since the land was drowning in sticky orange juice and no gin.
I was walking uphill now, downhill too but mostly up, from a hilltop
I could see my cottage; noticed light was on in the yard and in
The night air heard the desultory din of an airplane circling around
looking for a missing passenger.