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.


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


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?

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 :)