She rides in the air. Her face is so very near the glass. The glass is not not clean. Many have sat in the seat, smudging the glass. It’s been hours, long hours of looking out the window of the jet. Hours, she has looked ahead, below, up, and out to the side. For hours she has placed herself in all kinds of happenings in a girl’s life.

Why… she imagined earlier in the day. Imagined passing over a city. A park in the middle of town. She closed her eyes abit. She saw herself sitting on a bench in the park. There was a flower show there in her dream. She was wearing jeans and a soft green blouse… then he came. A handsome man in a suit and tie. He sat to enjoy the show, viewing the lovely array of flowers and their colors. They began to talk with one another, eyes blossoming on one another. He had a wonderful smile. They talked and talked. They just knew they were to be together. Yes, they knew this.

Up in the air sometime back they flew very high. Not much to see below. So, she had to really pull her thoughts… and she did.

Why… she imagined riding alone in a elevator, wearing a sexy black evening dress. He had called earlier, told her he would be waiting at the fancy resturant off the lobby. He said he would be waiting so he could watch the beauty of her enter.

They dined in a corner of the resturant. Secluded, stealing kisses and touches. They enjoyed the great food and wine also. They danced, and eventually made it to his suite where they loved each other in ways my words can’t explain.

Passing mountains now. She feels the plane decending, looks out the window and sees the huge moon lit lake below. It is silver looking from the moons beams. While wanting to sleep, she knew she could’nt. She had to save her thoughts, not wasting them on dreams. Awake she can control the dream, making them right, and enjoyable.

From hours of hard imagining, while pressing her head against the small window, she rubs her tired eyes. She looks in the glass, finding her reflection, sees her hair has no flair, face, no make-up. She rubs her wrist where the chains are, she trys to reach the ones around her ankles, but can’t.

You see, she is just a woman prisoner flying high above on a prisoner transport. See, while transporting, she has a chance to dream. Dreams of handsome men, who don’t want to hurt her. See, all the real men her life have hurt her, put her where she is today. Not in her dreams though.

Next time you look up and see a jet, say a prayer. Pray that those aboard are able to dream, dream, whether they are free or not. Not all in these cement compounds and on those transports are animals; some are just like me, someone who made a mistake. But should that mistake wipe out all hope, all my dreams?? No, plain and simple. Please allow me to dream. Sometimes it’s all we have. I know it’s all I have.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 28th, 2008 at 11:00 am and is filed under George Martorano. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.