Invisible Leather Wing Bits

(N+7 Translation)

It might have been cess slide or marine biology or, maybe, open bar…

My airplane body bolster.  My leather spinet protruding from the small of my back beat belted tightly to the gutter snipe suspending me over black, rubber dirtbags.  Nervous organdy passenger vans enjoying the flight control.  Wing bits outstretched, stationary soaring.  Dark, grey, burlap cloud chambers are my childish laughingstock.  I shed my steel skin disease and manufactured myself a brain cell.  I was a bird call – a flying bird call without wing bits.