i never believed i could fly...
yet, the other day,
i found myself 30,000 ft in the air -
yet again -
having a hard time believing
the captain’s reassuring words.
i was stopped thrice by security;
there was so much metal on me,
you could taste it in the air around me.
i could swear the metal detector had
picked up on my insecurity -
as it swiftly brushed against a drop of
sweat at my temple.
the ‘beeps’ might as well’ve been
swear words,
censored.
having already had two hits of the ‘good stuff’
before leaving for the port,
to say i was paranoid would be an understatement.
‘what if the machine picks up
traces of substance off my sweat?!!’
yep - i did think so.
‘twas bad.
already late for boarding,
i managed to find myself at the gate,
and into the aircraft,
at the indifferent pace of the final announcement.
the air hostess peddled a magazine my way:
i accepted it -
read it;
then closed it;
it had no substance.
i could feel the turbulence getting louder;
in my head, that is;
there was a pressure difference,
that didn’t feel any different:
‘twas just something that had to be dealt with;
so i split the difference -
i held my breath,
and it let loose - my dread.
the branded seats featured a slogan
from a recent ad campaign by the airline
celebrating its 18th anniversary -
‘how time flies’, it read;
‘clever…’, i thought -
then turned a sour eye to the window,
having not written it myself.
i saw the setting sun, past the surging clouds -
flares galloping across their shifting terrain
like little kids on a merry-go-round
chasing each other -
too young to realize
it was never meant to be a race.
i couldn’t help but chuckle
at that radiant sincerity.
for all intents and purposes,
‘twas was a golden hour;
fifty five minutes,
to be precise.
