Chicano Poet

Wednesday, January 09, 2008

Flight To Paris

Flew from Switzerland to Paris
on Baudelaire Air,
uncomfortable flight,

wings wouldn’t stay on,
stewardess complained
if I caressed her thighs,

pilot put grease
on the co-pilots hands,
couldn’t fly straight,

couldn’t fly crooked.
I was overjoyed
when we finally landed.

The plane taxied
up to the gate
and crashed into it.

When I got to my hotel
I realized that all the other passengers
had tagged along.


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