Invisible Leather Wings

It might have been Cesar or Marilyn or, maybe, Opal…

My airplane body.  My leather spine protruding from the small of my back belted tightly to the gutter suspending me over black, rubber dirt.  Nervous organ passengers enjoying the flight.  The rain, my only companion, & the wind trying to whip me down.  Wings outstretched, stationary soaring.  Dark, grey, burlap clouds are my childish laughs.  I shed my steel skin and manufactured myself a brain.  I was a bird – a flying bird without wings.