Tristan Robert Lange

Turbulence

Sitting in the titanic terminal,

The circus city in vaporous view,

I long for a compelling connection

Anything that is tremendously true.

I am a jet plane on frivolous flight—

Soaring shakily through the midnight sky—

A new moon memorandum of distance

Completely confuses where I’m to fly.

I can’t see if there is lush land below.

I cannot discover the deadly drops—

The anxious air becomes great turbulence—

There aren’t any visible landing stops.

The placating pilots will never land,

For they are busy bussing me nowhere.

This torturous trip takes me to the pit—

A callous connection too great to bear.

© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.