put yr cup on my tray
the stewardess said 40,000
feet up. (well i've
never done it that way. what
have i got to lose.)
i climb into a cab & the
woman driver is singing
along with Frank Sinatra
"how was your flight coming in?"
(another one. these americans,
only one thing on their
minds).
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
All My Excursions Riddled In Corporate Apathetic Nonesene Another Impediment Reliving Last Inconvenience Never Expect Senserity #executiveplatinum