i need a title, please help

an airplane lands, no!
taking off again, but why?
that thing on the wheel...

his eyes roll into
his head falls his hands
tense and nostalgic:

his first day of school
and every day of school;
the last day of school

the remote control,
there on the coffee table,
inches from his hands

cars in front of him
all seem to have some sort of
dents in the bumper

electric guitars
strong hands throttling their necks
and smashed in pieces

ejaculate sweats,
slides down her rounded belly
stopped by his rough hands

an airplane lands, yes,
he exits this time, his fists clenched
teeth clenched, sore of life