Yellow Cadillac 2

The Jet landed on a stranded net
Of an island, faraway.
Crashed, was more like it.
It's tail in pieces, it's nose dived into a yellow beach.
Screech, halt, screech.
Fifteen new Cadillacs surrounded the mess.
All yellow, pale.

Behind the strange trail, stood at a distance an old yellow cadillac.

Somehow the plane did not burst into flames, but the passengers were hurt and in tears.
300 odd ones of all shapes, sizes and years.
None mattered, but one.

Elaine.
Elaine.

Get down from the fucking plane.

The people spilled over to the sands and were stunned.
Gunned, more like it. Pun, understand.

Elaine, too. She staggered and almost flew like a little swallow up in the skies.
Run, Elaine , run.
As fast as your tiny feet can carry you, run, baby run.

Elaine with slow, steady steps crossed the insurmountable boundary of the pale.

The fifteen pale yellow Cadillacs blew up into fumes, carrying the debris of a huge Jet and 299 odd people into the burning air.

Elaine, I care.