Instructor


The plane was there; the engine was running,
Just like they said it would be.
Taking pictures needed of the forest fire
Would now be just up to me.

I jumped in the plane and yelled to the pilot,
“Get this thing off of the ground!”
With a worried look he replied to me,
But his words were lost in the sound.

Once more I yelled, “Let’s go! Let’s go!”
As he made a face that was horrid.
His hand on the throttle, with seeming reluctance,
He then pushed it all the way forward.

What kind of a takeoff this idiot made!
We finally bounced up in the air.
With money so tight at the newspaper office,
Good talent was least of their care!

“I’ve got to take pictures of the forest fire.
Get me there as soon as you can.”
It was then that I noticed the airplane pilot
Had the look of a much-worried man.

His hands started waving around in the air
Like some kind of music conductor.
His terror, now mine with the question he asked,
“Aren’t you my flying instructor?”

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