The Unexpected Life Of A Barf Bag Poem by Daniel Y.

“Welcome aboard! ” I greet everyone I meet.
But they rarely notice.
I’ve been to nearly fifty countries,
But I’ve never seen the ground.
It’s strange to me,
But the ceiling lights insist it exists.

My neighbor likes reading LIFE magazine.
It makes me want to gag.
We sit in our snug pouches.
Professionally straightened, folded.
They like our work ethic,
and our shelf life.
But we get worn out easily.

Two seats down is Rumple,
he likes collecting.
Gum, three PB & Js, and orange juice,
Mixed in an acidic, saccharine smoothie.
Perhaps he’d fit better in the lavatory.

The flight attendants flutter and
yoyo through the isle.
The pilot calls on the intercom,
with his sundry of atrocious accents,
“we’re about to hit a patch.”

The turbulence makes me nauseous
and for the first time, I’m under the weather.
And so is the little boy in front of me.
He snatches me from my hammock
and with a wrestling weight,
he slingshots a pitcher
of burning saltines.
The floodgates of hell open upon me.
And the world goes dark.