I like to go outside without a phone for many reasons, but detaching from the clock is a big part of it. Then, last week, I began noticing different airplanes that cross overhead at established times, going in various directions, pin pointing mental times to go with each. Sometimes I sit on the front porch between 3 and 3:15 PM and a plane flies from the Northeast on in the direction of the airport, I imagine. But maybe it is going further. I don't know. I would be fascinated to learn of this world just miles above us. But I am not dying to know all about airplanes. It just fascinates me to think that there are these people with phones in airplane mode perhaps, sitting in that bulky metal jet, hurdling over me. They're going to Chicago. They're going to Lexington. They're going to New York City. And it would be neat to know the schedule of the planes flying above me. I might try to memorize it if I saw it so I could write poems that read, "3:15PM, I sit on the front porch waiting for the airplane to pass above on its way to Charlotte." But I don't need to write with information. Sometimes I am happy that my poems and thoughts are just contemplations on my imaginings of life. So I take the few things that I do know about airplanes. I know that plane passes in that direction every day around 3:15.