Saturday February 12th, 2011

The exercise:

A four line poem about: the flight attendant.

We're flying back to Toronto tomorrow and I'll be back in action here on Monday night. But until then...

Note: I'm away on my honeymoon so this is a scheduled post.

Mine:

Somewhere over the Atlantic
I pulled her aside to ask her
For some more intimate service...
She told me where the exits were.

3 Comments:

summerfield said...

the flight attendant

In Lufthansa's business class, he hovers around me,
hands a blanket while topping up my lemonade.
The he slips a little card, with his phone number in it;
I look at his handsome face and I'm thinking AIDS?

-o0o-
i should explain:
When I came to Canada in 1988, I flew from Frankfurt on Lufthansa's business class to Toronto. The flight attendant was a handsome young thing, sweet talker, too. He treated me like I was a real VIP, so I could say it was worth the money I paid for. Halfway through the trip, I realized he was actually flirting with me. Not knowing anyone in Toronto, I kept his business card and thought, yes, hook up with a flight attendant. Next day, the newspapers carried a news item about how a number of Lufthansa flight attendants were found to have the AIDS virus. Thrill killer!

Greg said...

@summerfield: that's a great poem and a fantastic story to go with it! The last line of the poem really chills the reader and changes the mood completely.

@marc: Hah, now your flight attendant sounds much more like all the ones I've ever encountered! I think I prefer Summerfield's, though without the disease....

The flight attendant
He smiles, shows me my seat,
Pours coffee over me, unintended,
He's well meaning, even sweet,
But a hopeless flight attendant.

Marc said...

Summerfield - what a terrifying situation. I shudder to think what might have happened had that article not been in that morning's paper, or if you hadn't read it.

Greg - loved the rhythm of your poem :)