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flying lesson
The flying lesson
White as a shroud, the virtual paper in front of me
I wanted to record my first flight in a Dakota plane
Inside, the aircraft looked like a bus, reaching under
my seat for the parachute, the steward said
there wasn't, but he handed me boiled sweets which
I didn't eat in case it was a drug keeping us
asleep, that made sense since many were drunk
Turbulence, like driving on a badly maintained
country road, I threw up in a paper bag
The plane landed in Sweden, and the flight had taken
less than an hour
Nonchalant, I walked across the grey tarmac, gave
my passport to an official who stamped it
here comes a seasoned traveler
Copyright ©
Jan Hansen
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