“Sonic Boom” by Mary MacGowan

We flew the Concorde. Crouching
down walking to our seats. It was snug,
like a space craft. The food was gourmet.
A perfectly grilled filet mignon. How did
they do that? And the dessert, a chocolate
something with sugar-frosted berries and
an apricot sauce. One of the best meals ever
at thousands of feet. The walls were
stitched together to expand and contract.
The Machs were noted on small screens
located throughout the interior. Mach 1,
the walls stretched apart. Mach 2, even more.
Mach 3 and we were in twilight. Some
stars. All was still inside the craft while
we floated like astronauts. We hadn’t heard
our own sonic booms. Three hours later
we landed in Paris. Our marriage was already
over by the time we couldn’t see the Mona
Lisa. Someone always blocked our view –
resistance if we pushed forward, anger
if we asked for help. A guy in the patio
crowd called out A man with his hair
on fire! The mime sloshed pretend buckets
of water, gasped for breath. We carried on
skyless. An unmade open window, the futile
brushing of love into untamed curls.

---