65. Lost in the air

We are back in the States, but only technically. We're floating in JFK airport, waiting a few hours for a fight that has now been delayed a few hours more, so...fun.  But I managed to write a sonnet while in the plane, much less than I thought. And it's a little...lost.

This pigeon is not lost. He knows right where he is--
on top of  a little metal railing-- and he is pretty proud of it.

When filling out a customs form, be thorough:

make sure your precious things are well-declared.

Don't try to-- deep in luggage-- secrets burrow;

you might get caught and then be in deep merde.

I wonder if, returning to our nation,

we'll be interrogated by the Man?

I tell you, I will brook no condemnation.

I'll give them all the back side of my hand.

But meanwhile, as we hurtle through the air

I watch the screen that hangs before my face.

That thing can show how high you are and where

and help to keep from feeling lost in space.

It's good to see we're finally descending;

I'm ready for this whole trip to be ending.