Friday, April 11, 2014

Economy Class

They are soaring.
They are nowhere.

She hands him a small square white plastic tray.
He places it in front of him.
She forces out a smile.
He dies inside.

A cottony gauze drapes over him.

Time flexes and bends. 
Asleep. Awake. Then both at the same time.

The TV’s on. With no sound.
Commercials in grainy black and white,
Wordless frames of Tom & Jerry in slow motion.

Music pumps through his headphones.
But he’s not listening anymore.

He looks down and rubs his eyes. 
He looks up.

She’s gone.
Flying away.

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