What is time in the rumbling air-pressured cavity
Of an airplane, besides being the flight simulators’
Inexorable crawl towards the next airport? What is time
Besides the gritty pain in the corners of my eyes
Telling me I have slept too little, cried too much?
How do I know when to be hungry, or to close my eyes
Against the next movie on my little screen, or to imagine
The tiny ways people at home are living their day
While I am stuck in a limbo above air confined to my tiny seat
And the unhappy corner of my brain?
What is time now, that I can only stare at my watch
And wonder if anyone can hear me wish them good night.
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