The ventilator relentlessly spun above the bar,
The edge of its blade looked like
Desperately escaping hungry wings of a bat,
That is what he saw
While sipping his beer
In Llywelyn's, his favorite St. Louis bar
In the wooden framed mirror
Hanging on the opposite wall

His plane just flew in from Brooklyn
He slept until the end of the fligth
When he began following the plane's shadow
With his eyes

A small dot crossing over well-tended fields below
Through landing he watched the shadow grow bigger,
Mightier than the approaching plane

--Gabor G. Gyukics

From "Last Smile"