The Speed of Life

I’m in a pressurized metal cylinder burning fossil’s like there’s no planet to save six miles above. Twin rows of mind numbing drivel flash inches away from an army of travel optimized bags maliciously shifting in hopes of clipping the unwary. I’m in the back row. Late assignment left me unpleasantly unable to recline. It was that or a middle seat and knees be damned if I’m not an aisle man. Knees are damned all the same. A steady stream of well used air is keeping my face cool while I fail desperately at ignoring the persistent vocal masturbation wrought by over stimulated intercoms. I feel better.

If you triple punched and bindered the sum of my existence you’d use air travel for dividers. Separating the chaotic chapters with a brief blankness, unlined and unmarked and well defined. Brief moments of unreachable peace. Nothing to do and nothing to do about it. I rarely have traveling companions. Always alone in the shoeless herd. On my way to another attempt. A new hope that maybe, this time, I’ve escaped myself.