Forget surfing,
you haven’t had a thrill
till you’ve ridden the thermals
a mile into the air, hurtled
straight down like a bullet
shot from heaven.
The eagle is in charge. 

Forget emblem. 
I am bald, bold.
A target
to bored men in
the back of a pickup truck
with beer and rifles.  

A thought slips in:
What if I morph mid flight,
fall from the sky naked and woman? 

There are times human intelligence
is not superior. 

I land. Forget nimble.
The eagle’s mind evaporates,
leaving me alone.
Forget majestic.
My wings become arms,
my talons become toes,
my tongue grows fat in my mouth.