9780008390662

airborne
Not far, just into the nearby giraffe domain.
Not high, just enough to buzz the tops of trees.
Not long, just long enough to stop breathing.
But I fly.
I’m not alone. Half the world seems airborne. Trees, boards, bicycles, chunks
of roofs, umbrellas, chairs, bits and pieces of life: it all levitates past like
some horrible magic trick.
Something hits my head—a toy truck, maybe?—and I yelp in pain.
And I’m terrified, so scared I pee myself, and I’ll be the first to admit it—you
try it and see how dry your underwear stays—but still.
I fly.
Not like in the box, the box with my brothers and sisters. Not like with the
owl.
This is different.
This is me, Bob the dog, spending a moment as Bob the bird.