At 32,000 feet one is allowed to let the mind wander, At 32,000 feet certain thoughts are permitted, no?
Lord, can you allow me certain thoughts at this altitude?
will you permit me thoughts unacceptable and inappropriate at ground level?
Up here I am close to the heavens, can we agree?
up here the blue sky seems more pure (and eternal)
up here the burden of my own mortality is lifted momentarily, up here I feel the license to say things not allowed down below, thoughts that would be misinterpreted “down there”.
So permit me some heretical thoughts, maybe?
for up here, I fear less the inner Kritik!
up here my flight attendant,
has been inexplicably liberal in the administration of bloody Mary’s.
Let me then express
what I would never dare down there,
let me invite you
to feelings not revealed,
let me in
on what you know already
since you are so intuitive from that which has hitherto been congealed.
The transgressive includes you my dear, beyond the professionalism and propriety, the learned intellectual discussions
over Pinot Noir and Netziv!
the heart has no boundaries (you know, of course)
and the heart will have its way no matter what the consequence. For the Divine operates under atmospheric conditions
and today surprisingly the sky is blue
the heavens have an azure clarity,
which means the real truth is present and obvious
which means down below we are in trouble.
So forgive me a while,
under the Mariological influence,
of a deadly combination of sky blue and the redness of this inflammatory concoction, and reminiscences of the black Madonna of Częstochowa,
(at least the Vodka in the Bloody Mary survived!)
allowing the inner Kritik ( wife? Mother? for whom I mourn thrice daily?)
a moments reprieve.
Up here at 32,000 feet,
where all barriers to expression maybe removed for a while,
I can say the following
and not pay the price down below.
I love you my dear
and through you I love Her,
though the very transgression
beyond the rule book
beyond the Halachic
beyond the appropriate.
For She makes demands
on me,
and I have little idea how to handle Her
despite my age
and struggles.
She still thinks/demands satisfaction as/is possible.
Strung between Wife, Mother and Schechina (the RAMAK was correct) between every woman I have loved and the law
here I am today, this moment
my tears and my heart in unison
the head games are out of the picture up here (thank goodness or Godness) the reality of life, love and death so clear,
and the knowing heart fills my being,
with no higher criticism (Biblical or Psychological!)
to account to.
I am writing at 32,000 feet, a dizzying height even without Vodka! But my fingers are merely gliding over the keyboard
a demoness has possessed them for a few,
The words flow like the red liquor
The censor is off duty, we have fooled it at 32,000 feet And outside... the eternal blueness,
but inside.... the bloody Mary lingers a little longer imbibed in the incarnation of Mary/Schechina/You
I am at peace if only for a few.
