The Mile High Club

There’s something sexy about being miles high in the air.

 

Above everything you’re familiar with.

Halfway there.

Your problems as small as the fields of grass below you.

 

Stare outside your window seat and watch the

white pillowed clouds dance across the pale sky

as colors blend together like freshly spun

cotton candy.

 

Gravity is for the needy.

This is as close to weightless as

you’ll ever be,

you lucky bastard.

 

But they try to ruin it.

The women with scarves.

The men in suits.

Greeting us, waiting on us

with their free Internet and

complimentary circus peanuts.

Clown smiles painted across their smug faces

making us wish

(experience,

after experience,

after experience)

we cancelled our membership.

 

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