The Icaroids
The first was nervous. But he was remembered, even above the din
of our forgetting, and so he became custom, our custom,
our way to know ourselves, and to remember.
And so each one succeeding, wrestling with his heart, stood before
the blue, fine clothes discarded, stuffing himself inside
the neon blaze of the jump rig. Leaving the office, they leapt,
each of them, from fame to greater fame, first plummeting,
then sailing beneath vast canopies into our sports
arenas, where we greeted them on our feet, cheering,
drums rolling, to the fanfare of military
bands. We can only imagine their thoughts as they swayed
in mighty Beechcrafts up, and up, and up -- these heroes
of trade wars and short televised bombings surely felt no
fear as they crouched in those tiny doors
far above us, the spiritual winds tearing at them,
all existence a roar, and the flapping of Gore-Tex,
and the LEAP, that mighty leap outwards, into greatness
at last, our sky-diving ex-presidents.
by Joe Ahearn