Watched a first-run movie
From the comfort of my couch,
An experience to which
So many folks could likely vouch.
You can’t beat the convenience
And the snacks my kitchen holds,
Plus the fact that I can pause things,
Even as the plot unfolds.
There’s no outerwear to deal with
And no bus or cab or train
And it doesn’t matter if, outside,
There’s cold or snow or rain.
Yet I kind of miss the theaters
Crammed with fellow movie buffs,
Though, at times, your seatmates seemed like
Slobs or boors or lowlife scruffs.
Yes, I know I can return to
Those few theaters that exist,
But when Netflix has a current film,
It’s too hard to resist.
You go to the theater
And pay for your seat.
Perhaps you go often
Or just for a treat.
But when Act I begins,
To keep talking is rude,
Being clueless the reason
That I must conclude.
I regret my inaction,
Yet I was among
Other audience members
Who each held his tongue.
For maybe by saying,
Of course, with a smile,
“Please shut the f*** up!”
It would work for a while.
At least of their rudeness
They would be aware,
While likely confirming
They just didn’t care.
Most of the time, on a seat on a plane,
I say nothing to seatmates around me,
For people will sleep or will read or remain
Fully focused on screens that surround me.
Yet my neighbor today had been handed a card
For her birthday by one of the crew,
So my usual custom of quiet was jarred
And I wished her a happy day, too.
When the beverages came and I pulled from my bag
A croissant from my breakfast this morn
And I offered her half (just plain tea is a drag!),
A relationship somehow was born.
She’s the age of my son and her kids’ ages match
Pretty closely my grandkids’ as well.
Our religion’s the same and our politics, natch,
Seem aligned, far as I got to tell.
We talked work, we talked home and it turns out she writes –
Even poetry, what are the chances
Of connecting with someone like that? On most flights,
With my seatmates we hardly trade glances.
We shared numbers and names and she checked out my rhymes
As the plane travelled hundreds of miles
And no matter if there are additional times,
On this journey we shared lots of smiles.
Passengers on planes who balk
At following the rules
Should not be seen as harmless,
Merely acting out like fools.
For disobeying mandates,
Flying trapped up in the air,
Is a risky proposition,
Which to seatmates is unfair.
A threat to flight attendants,
Fellow passengers or crew
Should make flying, for the perpetrators,
Totally taboo.
Arresting those offenders
Who cause on-board stress and strife
Isn’t punishment enough – they should
Be cuffed, then banned for life.
On a plane we sit, confined
With all our freedom left behind.
We cannot move around too much
And with our friends, can’t be in touch.
We eat what we have brought aboard
And in our carry-ons have stored,
Then turn to what we have to read
(Variety is what I need).
If seatmates shut the window shade,
The ones who sleep have got it made
But those who like to look outside
Do sadly have their views denied.
The seatbelts keep us safe, we’re told
But sometimes we get rock and rolled
If turbulence gets out of hand;
We count the minutes ‘til we land.
Distraction really is the key;
At least, it works quite well for me
For if I’m busy, I’m not apt
To ponder how, in flight, we’re trapped.
The window seat provides a view
Of clouds and bright blue sky.
It’s where you likely want to sit
When it’s your turn to fly.
The aisle gives easy access
If your bladder needs to void.
Just pop right up and seatmates
Never have to be annoyed.
But what remains if by some chance
You wait to choose a seat?
Being stuck right in the middle
Where you’ll settle in defeat.
When Window wants to move, you must
Unbuckle and step out
And you’re disturbing Aisle
If you need to move about.
The dreaded middle seat’s for those
Who just ran out of luck.
Without accessibility or views,
You’re merely stuck!
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.