Ode to Airline Travel

Poem

Photo by Its me Pravin on Unsplash

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Ode to Airline Travel
						


Here's to the little boy who kicks
the back of my seat. Let me be
patient with this parent and child
and remember and regret all

the times when I was an impatient
father and hurried my harried sons
from one place to another. Here's
to the extrovert who ignores

the headphones and rock music
that I employ as self-defense
and asks me what I do for a living,
what I do for a living, what I do,

what I do. Let me recall and regret
when I've overstayed, over-
monologued, and over-confided
in strangers. Here's to the obese man

in the middle seat whose flesh
presses me against the airplane wall
for I am thirty pounds too heavy
and was born into a Native American

family and tribe who live in a food
desert where fresh fruits and vegetables
are as rare as Sasquatch and mental
healthcare. Here's to the restrooms

that smell of piss, shit, and body odor
because all of these passengers' bodies
work and fail just like my body works
and fails. Dear God, you've created

your humans to be so fragile and frail.
But, wait, I'm mostly an atheist so why
am I talking about God? It's because
God is one of the more beautiful

and dangerous metaphors. All
of the holy wars that have begun
inside the temples and churches
are fraternal twins with all of our

searches for grace and wonder.
We humans are so often brutal
and scarred by contradiction.
So here's to the heathen

prayers that I whisper to myself
as we fly thirty thousand feet above
the earth. Dear God, I'm always afraid
that my jet will crash and kill me

with velocity and flame. So let's toast
to fear—to the universal sense 
of mortality. Every humanitarian 
and despot decomposes in the same

way. Here's to the last breath
that each of us will someday take.
Here's to all the indignities
of our travel through the physical

and spiritual world. Here's 
to the man who spills his coffee
on me during a turbulent flight
and slightly burns my thigh.

Dear God, let me do my best
to forgive his carelessness
as I hope my various sins
of commision and omission 

will also be forgiven. Dear God,
let me pretend this airline food—
this dry sandwich and plastic cup
of ginger ale—is my communion

with every pilgrim and pigeon.
Let all of the winged and unwinged
laugh and weep our way through 
every holy and profane expedition.