AIRPLANE INTERIORS
David Feinstein
Well, we made it through, barely.
Like Jesus, if you will, with less to hide.
The hallowed shoes, for example.
Or the arms, tentative to stretch, suddenly resembling a compass.
Afterward, the walk wasn’t all that unpleasant.
Off to the side, a vending machine glared roses.
Here, anyway, the architecture makes sense.
Processional, with an altar of panels.
In between, exits.
The uniformed angels, wearing lipstick, shuffle through.
Directions have been discussed, over beverages.
We’ve been thoroughly warned.
As for weather, that too has been supplied.
Blue, and tilting.