Seat 27-B

by Wayne F. Burke

we are at twenty-seven thousand feet
there is an old lady on my right
she is chewing and fidgeting
maybe saying her prayers
she becomes self-conscious whenever I look
across her to see out the window
on my left is an asshole
with a suit on, Mr. Spic and Span
he looks like the MC of JEOPARDY!
he is invisible, does not want to be
touched or looked at or acknowledged
in any way
he reads the New York Times
he had taken possession of the armrest
I am stuck
in the middle
and without a newspaper
or a prayer.


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