speedway for mist racing (thoughts on an airplane)

the small window
is a speedway for mist racing
past till my eyes grow tired of the closeness
and with refocus
and a press of the small lightbulb
the dark pours in with flashes of lightning
lining clouds beside us, i
break to swig ginger ale bubbles
and the man across
sleeps with an open mouth
pop another cracker snack salty
on my tongue
turn my head to the next small window
and catch the last glimpse
of the sunset flaming out past the wing.