Goggles on
mouth agape
cravat askew
feet flying
black-suited
Icarus
sprints toward takeoff
where the sun-parched sand
and its ocean-kissed other half
convene.
Unaware of the fate
of the first to fly
and that wings alone
are not enough
to escape
gravity’s iron grip
he trusts the quest
for justice will
propel him aloft.
Soar, then,
devil-may-care
into the heat
of the sun
and land alone
somewhere out there.
