Do a Tail Slide or a Dip of Death
in broad daylight, it’s about
as dangerous
as scrambled eggs for breakfast.
Stunts after dinner are another matter.
The director of The Skywayman demands a mock-up.
Lock longs to look large, lives to do
hellacious things.
The director sighs. He’ll shoot the night stunt—
the flaming crash—last.
Whatever the risks, they’ll finish.
He paints the Jenny white,
orders bigger, brighter lights.
9:15. Lock drives to the field
with Viola. He’s late.
The director positions five sun arcs to
pierce the night sky,
vertical columns.
9:40. Lock and Skeets take off,
ascend, level out,
cruise at three thousand,
loop in the dark space
between the lights.
10:05. Lock sets magnesium flares
on the wings, a cross of fire.
They dive to two thousand,
turn, spin counterclockwise,
spiral closer, closer.
Five hundred, time to pull up.
They spin lower,
lower—cut,
cut the lights!
CUT THE LIGHTS!
Hell’s a-popping,
techs shift the sun arcs
straight at the cockpit.
Lock and Skeets slam into an oil sump,
ignite it.
Dry grass flames up
hell-west and winding.