Attention all poetry:
This is your stewardess Free Verse speaking.
Please make sure that your seatbelts are
securely fastened and your tray table is
positioned upright in the seatback in front
Thank you and have a nice trip.
My poem's batteries have run out.
They died somewhere over Kansas while
listening to The Talking Heads.
My poem is sitting aisle. He can't see
Kansas or anywhere else.
Sitting next to him is a very interesting
fellow. A man who keeps on mumbling and
but my poem likes him, with his shaggy
blonde hair covered by a tilted green beret,
his devilish smile, his funny French accent.
The name embroidered onto his vest is,