On a higher plane 

The fasten seat belt sign blinks off 

and I lean my seat and my head back 
into the conversation behind me, 

“Well, you haven’t lived until you’ve heard a corpse fart!

You see, I worked in a morgue all my life.” 

The jet banks and the sun shoots white yellow
across the aisle, highlights a very sunny
animated amputee telling a childhood story,

"She - mom - would wake me up every morning with this song:
WAKE UP LITTLE MAN, JAR THE GROUND,
SHAKE THAT WOODEN LEG, ROUND AND ROUND!
She was cheering me up! I don't know where my leg went
or what she did with it, but what a great mom to have! 
I mean, it could've been worse!"

There's a line to the bathroom, the stewardess
at the caboose of it with the drink cart, and I hear a nun
talking to a maybe basketball player, his head hairing
the ceiling of the fuselage, 

"Do you think Jesus would shop at Whole Foods?
I think he was more a Trader Joe's man. Also,
if someone had said to Jesus, There are no 
free lunches, He would've come back with: Why not?
Happy Easter, sir. Man … if I may say,
I bet you have a great 3-point shot!"


(To be continued; check flight information at your gate.)