Poet 11586

Dream flight

I am happy in the back seat of this strange car
Moving smoothly down a country road.
A quarter mile ahead is a sharp curve,
There is no one in the front seat.
I think someone ought to be driving.
Yes, I should do something about this.
Can I get behind the wheel in time?
No. Too late. Off the road. Over the cliff.
I glide through smooth air and pick my spot.
Landing gear down, full flaps.
Throttle back to idle, touch grass gently.
Roll to a stop in ten feet. Happy again.