The Retirement Home on Jet Blue
Making eye contact with the 75-year-old man reading a YA novel next to me on the plane I beg to be thin
Skinny enough to slide through the window sill
It took him all his life to know
It took me ten years to quit nail biting and now I wait for my first relapse
With fewer nails I slide through the window sill
Two crisp elderly women rock in wicker chairs as I climb from the air
Sucking on teabags reused for a second cup
I am reminded that I am falling from an airplane but I pause for blueberry scones nonetheless
(They are fresh scones and they are old women and I do not wish to be rude)
I have all my life to know thus I pose the question
Where does the boiling water come from?
They posit the answer: an electric kettle
And before I leave with my answer
They plea for thick wrinkless skin
And a seat next to a 75-year-old man
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