Aerial

For the first time in years, he looked out the window of a plane high, high, up 
And he saw

Those tiny lives, housed in the crooked, jagged formations of vehicles puffs of gasoline 

inscrutable from such height 

harmless from afar, perhaps

A tennis court half the size of his palm 

empty at the moment

And he wondered what it'd be like to witness a crime from above 

a simple mugging perhaps, in the narrow strip of a stringy alleyway, 

man versus man

Would it really be so different from seeing the crime down below, on land? Up close? 

Would he stop it then?

And the sudden dip of the plane smooths out the jarring whistle of air 

The landing, the rejoining the return of reality and everyday comings and goings 

A seamless blend with the glittering lights, lives.