NO, NO: SEATTLE TO LONDON                                         (response to prompt 15)

Wherever else would we be asked

to sleep within two inches – maybe less –

of someone we’d just met? These flights aren’t

 

called long haul for nothing.  They try

the patience, even pre-Covid.

Trying to hide beneath a thin blanket,

 

praying I sleep, praying I won’t

because I don’t know you, and you’re seated

touching me, head tilted, as if you’re my partner.

 

Don’t make me sit in the middle.

 

Seattle to London, over the pole – the

shortest route possible.  Ten long hours

with your arm resting closely,

 

limply by mine, as if I knew you.

I brought my own blanket onto this plane,

headphones, ear plugs, even a neck pillow.

 

Call me cranky, call me crazy privilege girl

but we’ve never met, and I’m sure I don’t

want to sleep crushed close to you.

 

Don’t make me sit in the middle.