It’s a daily routine.

My radio gives way
to the thunder.

My Village is on the western edge
of a runway
and I am, for some reason
by this intrusion overhead.

I ask about his words:

“Village noise makes me grit my teeth.
At night I wake up really frustrated,
wet from my own sweat.
Sometimes it’s so quiet in the Village
I feel exposed.
The planes mask the noises I make,
they offer me invisibility.”

Dean writes:


Planes pass overhead
so close
that I can feel them.

My chest rumbles.
My windows rattle.


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