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liam-c-calhounPoems
Every time I see a McDonnell-Douglas 80, Or MD-80, I sweat the deadened Drop Of a labor I’d wish not Remember. We called it, “The Oven,” Name and noun For the belly, The belly of the Beast – Texas high noon And no water, While Tossing luggage: ******* Prongs And cadavers, Hours on end Under Spanish howl And deafening Jet engines. I soon left, The tarmac, The turmoil And clamor Of airport operations areas. I picked up, Walked to the Cantina ‘Cross the way, Grabbed a beer, Grabbed a U-haul And grabbed my Girl On the way out. I’m here now, North And of no end to Mechanism, My commodity Food, My machine, Now a car, Though admittedly, When I look to the Sky And spot an MD-80, I remember my Toil And sympathize for my Sister, A blonde and the Youngest of the brood Who continues to Stomach that very Hell I’d freed myself from.
0
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
MD-80
Every time I see a McDonnell-Douglas 80, Or MD-80, I sweat the deadened Drop Of a labor I’d wish not Remember. We called it, “The Oven,” Name and noun For the belly, The belly of the Beast – Texas high noon And no water, While Tossing luggage: ******* Prongs And cadavers, Hours on end Under Spanish howl And deafening Jet engines. I soon left, The tarmac, The turmoil And clamor Of airport operations areas. I picked up, Walked to the Cantina ‘Cross the way, Grabbed a beer, Grabbed a U-haul And grabbed my Girl On the way out. I’m here now, North And of no end to Mechanism, My commodity Food, My machine, Now a car, Though admittedly, When I look to the Sky And spot an MD-80, I remember my Toil And sympathize for my Sister, A blonde and the Youngest of the brood Who continues to Stomach that very Hell I’d freed myself from.
Published, "Down in the Dirt," magazine.
liam-c-calhoun
Written by
liam-c-calhoun
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
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