poem of the day 05.15.13

there is no wine on airplanes

there is no wine on airplanes

that’s not altogether true

they come by once, maybe twice

on the long, transatlantic flights

give you just enough to wet the whistle and little else

not even enough to keep up the buzz

from the airport bar

let the video screens take care of the nerves for you

make you forget the virtual molestation that you received

back at the gate

keep you dumb with tv and movies mid-flight

so that you don’t shit yourself when the turbulence hits

just sit there watching reruns

of the big bang theory or mad men

playing solitaire or black jack

hoping to christ that you don’t explode over the ocean

ending yours and dozens of other mediocre, misspent lives

there is no wine on airplanes

not enough wine anyway

to stop someone from getting nuts

over being forty thousand feet in the air

and freaking everyone else out

so unnaturally high that it’s beyond comprehension

that little ocean down there laughing its ass off

the land over the horizon a shit streak of green and brown

there is no wine to quell this

or whisky

or enough half-warm beer cans in the world

to end the frenzy of five or six or seven hours of stale air and doom

just top 40 music and adam sandler films

in case the plane dips

something to listen to or laugh at

instead of ball and cry over your own mortality

these pricks keeping you sober and sane with the terror

in full capacity of your limbs and mind

so that when the plane nose dives

and hits the runway at 500 miles per hour

you don’t try and strangle these smiling jackoffs when it ends

as they usher your disheveled ass off the plane

with a goodbye

adios

adieu

arrivederci

or auf wiedersehen.