243 or Back III

I’m dying in a plane crash
listening to Yo La Tengo.
I’m dying with a dream
of women in blue.
I’m asleep on a tray table.
The wing snaps off
and tumbles burning by my window.
The landing gear tears away on
asphalt and we skid.
They’re lying on their back
with their dresses half off.
I’m listening to Last Days of Disco
and I’m dying in a plane crash.
Nobody has pulled the emergency exit handle,
but it doesn’t matter, does it?
I have their legs in my hands,
over and over I pull silk
taut in my fingers.