Fly-i Flight 1597
(Barf Bag Poem #1)
Stephanie flies to Maine.
A yellow rubber bracelet says
“Live Strong.” Some concur
without knowing it; most settle
for “live comfortably,” but
New England means hard work.
Stephanie accepts a book from
A traveling poet, licks her thumb
to clean cookie crumbs attached
by spit that moves to plastic as
she shakes apple juice and ice.
Inquisitive eyes invite attention.
She speaks, smiles, wears baby
blue checked cabana pants
and beach flip-flops, anticipating
immediate holiday mode, late August.
Everyone wants to talk to schoolgirls,
college or high school. Most are
shy about it once their age doubles the
targeted prospect. But if friendship
is the agenda, it still works. Awesome.
So a one hour chat ensues
between poet and woman. She’s
well tanned, he’s bespeckled and
dazzled at the same time, always
amazed when communities spring up.
Granted, this is a one-hour
community of two, but still,
closeness and potential connection
even if just IMs once a month
is inspiring in the age of dismay.
Cultural or creative or communal
instincts allow Stephanie to smile
at a big bold blabbermouth. A book
of poems is a bold advance these
days, not the corporate point of view.
Stephanie says (thanks Lou) “you’re
nice,” then a poet hands her his email
address, she writes hers on an air
sick bag, and, presto, the community
grows. Bless you Stephanie.
Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2004. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.