Parasailing

No gull-winged birdmen

hang in this current and glide.

Just two thrill-seekers

strapped in a steel blue tow chair,

suspended under a purple wing,

banked against the bleached-out blues

of a cloudless sky,

highlighting this oversized kite

soaring six hundred feet straight up,

blown skyward straining on a braided cord,

riding the vertical elevator of thermals,

lifting against the tiny speedboat

marking with concentric circles

the spot of sea where we might land,

when the winds die, or the engine stalls,

or time expires, or the wing collapses,

just as it did somewhere in the Aegean

three millennia ago when manned flight

was made possible by wax, feathers, and pride

which came unglued due to sunstroke, gravity,

and the flier’s discovery why no birds

whirl, spin and flop like a broken kite

falling into indigo sea,

swelling to the twirling blues

of a blur

where sea, sky, and imagination

freewheel without axis,

without poise, no pride,

strapped in a steel blue tow chair

freefalling,

while sea birds soar

wheel, spin and dive.

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Tim Thornburgh graduated from Seattle University and then joined the Peace Corps and was sent to Micronesia where he served as a teacher of English and History. He also engaged in small-scale construction, building water-seal toilets to reduce the incidence of amoebiasis. Tim fell in love with the moist tropical climate and the wild island sense of humor (no one is laughing at you but instead are laughing with you) and he spent the next thirty years in the islands working in various capacities.