Durians In Flight

This was before they were banned From overhead storage. Amazing how one Durian can clog So many confined bobbing heads. A stomach turning air turbulence Is yet more desirable than That choking miasma of emissions Which waft from their pulpy substance. In foreign parts beer is not quaffed While consuming Its flesh. No one says why. I do say however For it is disturbingly wonderful to glug while munching That earthy reek. To gormandize upon The fungal billowing Of its noisome meatiness, Is an experience only The reckless may speak of. The creamy white meat Around the large pithy seed-eggs Beguiles the mouth to suck And pillage its pale treasures. While the cold beer Both numbs and shocks a cringing brain. I have found it blows the mind Yet leaves only the stench Of a gluttonous well-being That permeates through Every orifice. Those unused to the potency Of being alone with a ripe Durian Should not fly or be ill prepared. For even when sealed in cargo The funk of the fruit stuns and stupefies. Fellow passengers Demanding parachutes High above over the Indian ocean Have been known to renounce Their white privilege Or fall to their knees in prayer Hoping against hope That ventilating masks Will drop into the contaminated cabin. Naturally, there is no escape For even when they disembark, Cabs will not carry them, And all will shun even the shadow Of a Durian Once its odor has latched onto Your trembling soul.