flight thoughts*

thisisa
FINAL
call
forpassengers
Margaret. Ogli.
and
David. Adams.
Please go
IMMEDIATELY
to gatefifteen.
Yourflightisreadytodepart
and allotherpassengers
are waiting
FOR.
YOU.

(You’re supposed to feel
guilty – it’s in the job description.)

In the waiting lounge
Everyone
Someones
are drinking Starbucks
and they are drinking it from
VERY
large cups.
I without my Starbucks, instead
quiet internal conflict realising
downward dogs and similar in
public places/real life
are Not Acceptable.
Semi-paranoid about DVT (Deep Vein
Thombrosis) after reading a
safety card.

Semi-paranoid about many things.

On the plane, though, you can’t stop me.
Small empty spaces are better than large crowded ones for twinkle-toesing
Some of my best penches
have been in small avian toilets
on storm-shifted boulders
and in the shower, shaving my legs.

Gosh, they do talk loudly here don’t they
Obnoxiously polite
Whereas us Kiwis are
politely obnoxious.

ATTENTION ALL PASSENGERS:
Please do not whistle.
Whistling is creepy
Creepy-looking persons will be tackled and searched.

You know who should be tackeld?
People wearing American Flag antlers.
Overweight, middle-aged women wearing American Flag antlers.
You don’t look patriotic you just look
Ridiculous.
You look like a grasshopper but less friendly
and less happy.
Attention all customers, for the
safety of others
and mostly for your own
dignity, please remove all ridiculous headwear
THANK YOU.

White man sitting on a very tall and majestic wooden chair
Black man shining his shoes
in a poor-boy cap.
Not even kidding.
Makes me feel a little bit angry
Black man is very, very black.
White man answers his phone and takes an
Important Business Call.
Shiner keeps shining.
Shine man, shine.

Post-watching skin science doco
vitamin D
shining
through small window

rows 42-53
would prefer to look at animated backs of chairs
than the edge of the world.
When the apocalypse happens,
it will happen in seven different colours
I know it
with a perpetual moon.

I had lunch seven hours ago
and I’m about to have breakfast.
My Tuesday 5 July is 40 hours long
My 15 July doesn’t exist
except for a brief flicker
at which moment I cross a man-drawn line
which is probably marginally inaccurate (I assume).

There is a funny smell in economy.

You know you’re in the Angels’ kingdom
when you feel as though you might get
raped in the airport toilets,
a concrete carpark prowl.





*The first verse is a borrowed idea from poet David Best.