Came The Zeppelin
The Zeppelin came and it had soft hands. It would pet us one by one, and feed us tiny gasoline flavored cakes. We loved the Zeppelin because it could fly. It had conquered fire, and had no grass stains on its jeans. It could block out the sun. We sat in our barns and watched the Zeppelin through tubes of solid glass. We watched it do barrel rolls and spit at birds. We had always loved birds, but now we hated them. They were enemies of the Zeppelin, so they were ours as well. I remember the first time the Zeppelin ever touched me. It let me clamber through its rib, to where its guts live. The air was metal, and the world was spinning. I couldn’t breathe, but that was fine. Our barns had never looked so tiny, so manageable. It felt good to finally be part of something massive, even for a moment. Everything but your eyes and heart all turned to flame.