Flight
The Stewardess is standing in the front of the plane
suspended somewhere over the
midwest
pointed south
Facing down the aisle of the craft
She examines the bored faces of
each
and every
passenger
with disappointment
on hers
Imagining the Romance and Drama of
flight in the 1950s
She slides herself into a
blue wool skirt that
hugs
the half-moon curve of
her hips and
bottom
She buttons the matching
blue cardigan over a
tight white dress shirt with
wide lapels
forming a raised rim over
the arch of
her breasts
Above her neat bun
She crowns a
circular blue cap
adorned with a freshly
polished pair of
wings
————————-
In the cabin
She slides down the aisle
an elevated
Monroe
amongst Happy Travelers who
courteously ask for more
coffee
She smiles back and obliges
inquires kindly on their
travel interests
attends to the next
smiling couple
leaving a momentary
trace of Dior as
she goes
The Captains Voice Pumps
flatly over the passengers’ heads
“Looks like there’s some rough
air up ahead. I’ll be turning on
the seat belt sign for the rest
of our flight.”
She shakes from the daydream
violently, it free falls as
the craft jerks in
the first of many updrafts
Her smile quickly flattens
An infant begins to wail
Her ears depressurize
A desperate call signal illuminates
She stares blankly at 120
bored faces
She buckles her seatbelt
Wishing someone would
take
her
away.
