Airfield at Night
On the outskirts, spread even and deliberate, are towers in T-shapes with ladders and antenna. Behind them a chain link fence casts a wide perimeter, easily traversable. They chaperon a cardboard cutout of Kansas plain country stitched to a quilt in the downslope shadow of the Smokies. In the hill valley hemmed by distinguished plateaus and accompanying rivers. The land is cut and cornered by a road that zig-zags from point to point, lilting up and down and steady like the tide. The pavement widens and shrinks and digs underneath runways. One tunnel's so long and spread your radio craps out and the car in the next lane honks its horn for the echo's novelty value alone. A grey, bright ambiance from the multitude of square overhead lights like buttons on a console board paint the inside and set it distinction. A building is on the left with a slanted roof. It is alone, surrounded by more flat terrain. A hangar with a small jet inside. More structures and busyness encroach fur...