Freight

Freight
 
Five
Jet
Chemtrails
Chalk
Mark
The
Sky,
Ten
Thousand
Miles
High.
Aboard,
Twelve
Hundred
Souls
Ride
At
Ease
There,
Going
Some
Where.
For
Love
Or
Money
Or
Work,
They
Happily
Shirk
Gravity
To
Span
A
Timeless
Cavity
Of
Space
Below,
The
Finality
Of
Which
They
Do
Not
Know,
Caught
In
The
Banality
Of
Wingless
Flight
And
The
Empty
Glitter
Of
The
Height.