In a vapor trail, in a vapor trail Swept away like voices in a hurricane Horizon to horizon Memory written on the wind Washed away like footprints in the rain Stratospheric traces of our transitory flight Trails of condensation held In narrow paths of

Amelia, it was just a false alarm I was driving across the burning desert When I spotted six jet planes Leaving six white vapor trails across the bleak terrain It was the hexagram of the heavens it was the strings of my guitar The drone of flying engines