Crowded in-plane misery and cramped, this flight.
Do I shiver in a blanket, vent screwed tight.
Or air nozzle twisted left full-open,
blowing slightly on my head.
Thigh-to-thigh, hot ears,
knees knock hard and bruise against seat-back.
And sleep? Not me, except my feet,
would rather that they run.
Please! These seats,
I feel, require sweat and blood and tears.
I hear the whining of the engines in my ears.
The pressure causing baby’s tears and
howling for the making of this long flight out.
The hours splayed from minutes by my mind—
Each one, another calling of the law, physique.
Please, uncork the stopper of this knotted
Ball of matter in the bottle: time and space.
But even in this misery, I tap the ether of My Maker's smile
And know that this is just a finite flight.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
From a recent plane trip: