Out of Here
By Jessie Paesel

I'll take that plane right out.
Crawl over flatlands to meet her
On winding turf. 
We'll wear fields of lace
And eat long noodles.
Play Cure tapes
And write letters just like this one,
Saying,
"We'd both like to leave this place.
Send us our wings." 
And wish hard with eyes shut.
So here I am,
With a bucket full of pennies.
Wishing for a way out.
That, or a bowl of noodles.