I believe the following says all:
Snakes and Boredom on a Plane
I am sitting on a plane
Hoping that it will rain
But the sun defies me
Or maybe it’s that the plane is above the clouds
7 PM and it’s bright as midday
Contrary to the laws of nature I’d say
The earth rotates towards the east
I fly towards the west
What’s the significance of this
Flying economy certainly isn’t bliss
But then again I brought Costco pizza
Which makes everything alright
I think about what this beast of metal, with wings and engines
Does it make my soul and the plane like twins?
I think about certain humans
Whom I have left behind far too early
The guy behind me just said, “Please,
I’m going to wash my hands.” in Chinese
So I heard
“That’s what she said.” in English
The official test of boredom should be this:
Watching the iTunes Visualizer without thinking anything is amiss
The screen: two dark orbs, with glowing spots spouting solar flares
Some lashing out, tail hairs of untrimmed mares
This is airplane poetry
Una mezcla of ennui and cramped legs
Patronizing contempt for the fear-mongers wearing face-masks
Airplane poetry, boredom snaking through my mind