An air devil perfects a trick, confidence
multiplies confidence. A rival wills a wilder
stunt, a hell-all gamble just to stay in the game.
I get a cut of everything
and men will bet on anything—
mechanics prime motors with castor oil,
spectators scent sudden death,
bookmakers lay odds on the day a pilot
dies in the Undertaker’s Chair.
Three times my lollapalooza earner quits.
The Man Who Owns the Sky plans to play
the stock market, woo some women.
I tell him an air devil never retires unless
someone invented a stunt he can’t do.
Linc mounts the cockpit in a suit and tie,
reverses his cap to signal the start:
flip, loop, slide, drop, he delivers dare
after dare after dare after dare.