Poem: Night Flight

I found a couple of poems I wrote at some point within the past 5 years saved in a document on my hard drive.

This is a poem I wrote on an airplane flying home for Thanksgiving. Based on a true story.

Night Flight

The cabin is dark.

The passengers sleep,

or pretend to sleep, earbuds jammed in deep

to drown out any voices

and avoid unnecessary small talk with their neighbors. 

The tiny reading light above your head

dimly lights your neighbor’s face.

You turned it on for her,

her chubby T-rex arms too short to reach it,

and too short to reach over her massive torso

to retrieve the shiny sequin purse shoved under the seat in front of her. 

You pick that up for her too.

You have wedged yourself into your seat,

plastered against the closed window shade,

a lost nickel buried among the couch cushions,

forgotten and warm.

She pulls out a copy of 50 Shades of Gray.

You try to focus on something else,

anything else,

but you can’t help but read over her shoulder. 

The book is terrible.

You try to sleep,

but your eyes-closed entertainment is an extremely large, naked woman

tied up in a pristine white clawfoot bathtub, 

rolls of fat blubbering up over the sides as she struggles to push herself out. 

“Excuse me?”

You hesitantly open one eye.

You put her book away and turn off the light.

It’s safer in the dark.

You open the window shade

expecting to see nothing 

but the never-ending blackness of the sky.

Instead you see a sky full of stars,

bright, familiar stars. 

Your window perfectly frames the Big Dipper.

You look down to find a blanket of cottony gray clouds

obscuring humanity below you from sight,

and obscuring you from them.

You think about the Big Dipper, 

and the stars,

and the universe,

and how tiny you are,

and how the people below you can’t share these thoughts with you tonight,

because to them the sky is cloudy,

and outside is snowy and bitter,

and they are in their beds,

blankets pulled tight up to their chins,

the stars but a distant dream.

 You want to share the stars with someone, anyone. 

Your neighbor is now snoring like a congested walrus.