Enlightened on a 747

miami to chicago
7:00 pm arrival
new year’s eve

purple heaven was
cut
off by a red
scratch
of sun that
irritated
dropped winter blackness
on an electric
dalmatian
ground

sitting window
seat
my colon tugged
its
rope my sphincter
grinned
expectation its passion
vomiting

like a
dancer
with diarrhea my
feet
stuttered gracefully past
two
media moguls discussing
merits
of digital storage

my urge to
defecate
made a rally
crY
that satisfied and
offended

down my red
carpet
through economy seats
I
the starring actor
made
a career decision

push
shift
occupied

mine

it was roomy
all
of a sudden
my
seat A row
27
was captivity compared
to
this vast paradise
wrapped
in beige plastic

off
come pants
boxers hands on
my
knees gently easing
on
this social hungry seat

sigh

I spread my
legs
for great
ventilation I
am
half naked

I
could spend the
trip
here

alone

flight
attendant asks
if
I am OK?

I’ll
say

airplane chicken

and
make
the bulimia soundtrack
found
in teenage girl
plaster
white stalls across
america

surrounded by non
smoking
signs reminded me
of
my resolution

no
cigs
ever

in front
of
me oddly
kept
for thirty
years
an
ashtray with a
cigarette
persists without a
red
sign crossing it
out

my inner rebel

comes
alive
at their
incompetent
hypocrisy miniaturized
across

a warm toilet
seat
where answers are
clarified
by
natural detoxifying processes
and
an industry’s failings
can
be
obvious as shit

do
all of
the
airlines problems
stem
from this incongruity
that
strung out work
junkies
felt was unimportant

if so
it is the
most
significant piece of
work
in the most
sacred
of holy places
on
this godforsaken aerial
amistad
run
by trumped up
transportation
pimps