Window Washer at Logan
Braced by a copper sunrise,
the man cleaning the windows
of the airport terminal splays
himself against the glass
with a ballet grace he learned
on the job. His poise reassures
the coach-class paying customers
the airlines themselves disdain.
Behind him, a parked airliner
sports a tail whose horizonal
stabilizer mocks his squeegee
by sharing its simple geometry.
Although not as glamorous
as piloting, window-washing
preserves a view of the world
we need for the sake of sanity.
The elegance of his effort
flatters the garish sunup
and suggests how the human figure
might unfold in natural flight.