Different Slants

© February 2009

 

 

Windsor Castle

Stone Henge

Double-decker

Red buses

 

I’m flying to England!

 

Pubs

Warm beer

Lusty

Busty

Bar-maids

 

I’m flying to England!

 

Fish n’ Chips

Big Ben

The Thames River

 

I’m…ok, ok, you know

 

I snake through the line

at the

International

Terminal

 Hours early

I take

No chances

 

Just

One

Carry-on

I have my book

I’m smuggling

Dark chocolate bars

In my bag

In case

I

Really

Need it

 

The line creeps along

Bags rolling behind

Impatient people

Babies cry

Among the

Thousands

Leaving

America

 

I have my

ID

Hung around my neck

I’m so ready

So organized

The ideal traveler

Ready to go

 

I packed my

Emergency

Medical Kit

Extra batteries

Extra film

For my

Antique

35 millimeter camera

 

I even already have

English Pounds

On me

From my

International bank

 

An extra pair of glasses

A warm sweater

For cold

English nights

 

I am so wired!

I’m flying to England!

 

The

Besieged  

Ticket counter

is

Just ahead

One couple

to go

 

Then

Me

 

I see the

Perfect  

British Airways girl

in her

Perfect uniform

 

Her

Red hair

So wavy

Down to her shoulders

 

Her blue eyes

Tempestuous

like

the

Irish sea

 

But

More exciting

 

Her teeth

Like the

Kennedy teeth

An

Irish smile

 

Her

Million

Freckles

Soft  

On her

Creamy  

Peachy

Face

 

Only

Make her

Ever more delicious

 

She speaks to me

In a

Brogue

But I’m still

Dogpaddling

in her

Enticing

Liquid

Eyes

 

“Ticket, please.”

 

Yes ma’am

Right there

In the cool little

Pouch

Hanging round my neck

 

She takes it

I inhale her

Serious

Perfume

 

“Identification, please.”

 

Ok, Cutie

Its right there

Same place

She smiles

The sun rises within me

Such a doll

 

I bet

London

Is full of

British babes

like her

 

“Passport, please”

 

Right there

Maid Marion

Same pouch

 

She slides it out

Opens it

One last thing

Then, man!

I’m flying to England!

 

Soaring to Westminster Abbey!

 

Her

Sparkling

Blue eyes

Cloud over

 

What?

What can it possibly be?

She speaks

 

 

 

“Sir, I regret to inform you,

But,

Your passport has expired”

 

“You

Cannot

Fly 

Today.”

 

I stare

I freeze

I crash

 

Her terrible words sink in

 

I’m guess

I’m not flying to England…

Today

Katzman’s Publishing Company site: www.FightingWordsPubco.com
Katzman’s online non-fiction stories: www.DifferentSlants.com

Poetry? For me, writing poetry is not an option.
It’s a response to emotion. Like cigarette smoke,
it’s fast-flowing, shapeless and with little time to capture it.
Writing poetry in an imperative. I say what I feel compelled to say.

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