The Flight
Second-place finalist in Maisonneuve’s “Sunshine on Your Shoulders” literary contest
body { font-family: georgia,times new roman,serif; font-size: 0.9em; color: rgb(64, 64, 64); line-height: 1.5em; }p { font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 8px 0pt 14px; }h1 { margin: 5px 0pt; font-size: 3.5em; line-height: 1.1em; }h2 { font-size: 1.2em; margin: 2px 0pt; }h3 { margin: 2px 0pt 10px; line-height: 1.1em; }p.text-align-right { text-align: right; }p.text-align-left { text-align: left; }p.text-align-center { text-align: center; }p.font-weight-bold { font-weight: bold; }p.font-style-italics { font-style: italic; }    Sitting in my seat, my knuckles
 clench my seatbelt as the obese
 woman to my left chatters
 about her children in Toronto.,
 but But I am frowning,
 my wrinkled mind
 like a collared shirt crammed
 in a suitcase the airport
 has reported as lost.
 “Do you have a girlfriend?
 A handsome boy should have
 one,” she says as I look up.
 I have several, I respond,
 one for every city I do business
 in. At work they call me Errol
 Kintz. In like Kintz—
 you know—In Like in like Flynn,
 and I start to explain
 but the look in her eyes
 is as vacant as the cheap motel
 I stayed in last night.,
 so I stop my sentence short,
 just like iI stopped my trip short,
 and I recline my seat back
 and adjust my pillow just
 as iI do at home with my fiancée,
 Amy, who calls me a blanket
 thief and also a dog because
 every night i I somehow manage
 to drool on the pillow—her’s,
 not mine. My eyelids are twitching
 like my legs as I stretch them out.
 She was supposed
 to be with me on this trip,
 but she ran into an old boyfriend
 on the way home from work
 the other day, and the damage
 to her car is extensive.,
 but tThe doctors say she should
 recover, though she may never
 walk the same again. They also say
 that she should wake up from
 her coma anytime, so I’m
 flying back, so I can stay with her
 in the hospital and hold her hand
 as I whisper in her ear that she
 is the only one for me,
 and that she’d better wake up
 or I’ll hop in the hospital
 bed with her and not only will iI
 drool all over her and steal
 her blankets, but I’ll eat
 all the Jell-O the nurses bring.
 Then the captain’s voice snaps
 me awake, and I see that my head
 has been resting on the woman’s
 shoulder, and there is a puddle
 of drool that she just let roll
 down her sleeve rather
 than waking me, and my hands
 are locked onto hers like
 a little boy locks onto a mother’s
 leg, but. she She just held them softly
 as I trembled like a tiny child
 waiting to rush in to the hospital
 and wait as she Amy shakes off her coma.
 like a child shakes off their bowl  of Jell-0 on the floor during  a daily dinner tantrum.
 
             
             
         
   
    