Oh no, you’re not
not even boarding
not even close
six-hour layover now delayed
they need to clean the plane
are you kidding me?
only ninety minutes more
but we’re the lucky ones
because we will board shortly
United 8839 from Frankfurt
to Newark International—
buckle up sweetheart
more delays—the runway is backed up
but good news—the mechanical problem
has been resolved
what mechanical problem?
yes, I will have a glass of wine
the guy next to me hasn’t stopped
blowing his nose and is now
stuffing his used tissues
into the back of the seat in front of us
for the entire seven hours
I hate my seat, I hate him
the future is Covid
and the movies suck too
but we made it—Newark Airport!
what this? We didn’t get Global Entry?
get on line with hundreds of people
and only two stations open
as more planes expel more people
Hot Crowded No toilets
suddenly one old lady is down
flat out in front of me
no airport help around
not right away
and when they do
they don’t know what to do
ah, good news—finally
they turned on the AC
what now? we just heard
the mechanical problem
was right here in Newark—
air traffic control
no communication
understaffed—walk outs—
trouble—trouble in the skies
ah, the good news—our flight
did not run out of gas
because that did happen
but not at Newark
I should have titled this poem
Fly Me to the Moon
Julie Standig, author of The Forsaken Little Black Book, nominated for an Eric Hoffer Award and chapbook, Memsahib Memoirs. Her poems appeared in Schuylkill Valley Journal, Gyroscope Review, The New Verse News, One Art and elsewhere. A lifetime New Yorker, she now resides in Bucks County.
