PLANE 1; VIENNA

mean lioness steward asking me if I want a drink.

I say

I DONT KNOW . . .

I dont; my science AWOL

on

board

a

sky

machine.

mean lioness steward gives forms out.

I say

DO I NEED IT? 

I take one . . .

seat

in

front

shoots

back . . . I say

FUCKS SAKE!

it retreats out my lap.

Johnny says

YOU CANT BE LIKE THAT MAN.

I say

FUCKS SAKE THO!

quiet arab crumpled everyday clothes

(now sky planes nothing special to him)

in

the

seat

next to me

indicating

my

pen

without a PLEASE.

LONDON

EGYPT

LIBYA

NEW YORK

he writes in his form.

now

some frightened numpty,

some daily mail reader,

some small mind paranoid

could

hiccup

with daft freedom and plane fear at his geography list

in these big bomb times

but

me,

I think hes travelling dark with oil money

and

big bombs been blowing

since

the

genius of china

or

balloons

over

vienna

1849.