Prose & Poetry on Ponce
Event at SCAD Atlanta Ivy Hall
At this event I recited the 2 following poems, one a prose poem that is one extremely long sentence and another.
1.
1.
Plane talk
As I board my midnight flight AA 1985 to Port of Spain Trinidad–which is really going to land in Piarco, thirty minutes away from Port of Spain but they assume that the airport should be in the capital of the country so they say Port of Spain–from Miami Florida, the pilot announces our estimated time of arrival at 4:30a.m. and I notice the look of confusion on my fellow passengers’ faces because they don’t understand why a three hour flight would take an extra hour but what they fail to realize or remember or have any knowledge of at all is that Trinidad does not have daylight savings so the pilot is announcing the time it will be in Trinidad not in Miami and the flight attendants, like me, see the confusion on their faces and proceed to explain to them that exact fact as I make my way towards my seat which happens to be located at the very back of this small plane, next to the lavatory in seat F, next to this mother with her crying baby who begins to scream–as if I don’t hate children enough already I have to put up with this for 3 hours as we fly across the Pacific or maybe it’s the Atlantic or whatever damn Ocean we are going to fly over– as I approach my seat causing a heaven sent flight attendant to ask me if I’d like to sit up front in an empty seat and when I say yes, she then escorts me back to the front of the plane passing rows twenty four through eleven up to seat 10C, which is a window seat, my favourite, and I see someone I recognize is seated next to me to provide me with conversation for the next 3 hours, even though I hate small talk and would rather sleep, but anything is better than that damn baby crying and clearly we have some very observant flight attendants on this flight which makes me feel very safe and positive about his flight that is apparently ready to take off because the flight attendant that saved me from the screaming baby is now hustling me to sit and fasten my seat belt as her fellow co-workers bustle by her to go to their fake seats and tell the captain the plane is ready but she doesn’t get to her seat before the plane begins taxing and the pilot announces his speech about who he is and the estimated time of arrival again and this time no one is confused, because they understand what it means now and then I realize my saviour flight attendant lady is the one who does the demo on how to fasten your seatbelt and inflate a life vest and secure your oxygen mask in case of emergency because we’re in an older plane that doesn’t have the fancy video with crappy music and the fake smiling people paid to act out fake roles of people acting so calm when oxygen masks fall from the ceiling of a plane while it is in flight.
2.
As I board my midnight flight AA 1985 to Port of Spain Trinidad–which is really going to land in Piarco, thirty minutes away from Port of Spain but they assume that the airport should be in the capital of the country so they say Port of Spain–from Miami Florida, the pilot announces our estimated time of arrival at 4:30a.m. and I notice the look of confusion on my fellow passengers’ faces because they don’t understand why a three hour flight would take an extra hour but what they fail to realize or remember or have any knowledge of at all is that Trinidad does not have daylight savings so the pilot is announcing the time it will be in Trinidad not in Miami and the flight attendants, like me, see the confusion on their faces and proceed to explain to them that exact fact as I make my way towards my seat which happens to be located at the very back of this small plane, next to the lavatory in seat F, next to this mother with her crying baby who begins to scream–as if I don’t hate children enough already I have to put up with this for 3 hours as we fly across the Pacific or maybe it’s the Atlantic or whatever damn Ocean we are going to fly over– as I approach my seat causing a heaven sent flight attendant to ask me if I’d like to sit up front in an empty seat and when I say yes, she then escorts me back to the front of the plane passing rows twenty four through eleven up to seat 10C, which is a window seat, my favourite, and I see someone I recognize is seated next to me to provide me with conversation for the next 3 hours, even though I hate small talk and would rather sleep, but anything is better than that damn baby crying and clearly we have some very observant flight attendants on this flight which makes me feel very safe and positive about his flight that is apparently ready to take off because the flight attendant that saved me from the screaming baby is now hustling me to sit and fasten my seat belt as her fellow co-workers bustle by her to go to their fake seats and tell the captain the plane is ready but she doesn’t get to her seat before the plane begins taxing and the pilot announces his speech about who he is and the estimated time of arrival again and this time no one is confused, because they understand what it means now and then I realize my saviour flight attendant lady is the one who does the demo on how to fasten your seatbelt and inflate a life vest and secure your oxygen mask in case of emergency because we’re in an older plane that doesn’t have the fancy video with crappy music and the fake smiling people paid to act out fake roles of people acting so calm when oxygen masks fall from the ceiling of a plane while it is in flight.
2.
Cure for a case of the lonelys
Borrow a car. If you must, steal
A car, any car with four wheels
With windows that wind down,
And an engine full of gas, a quarter tank
Will suffice.
Throw on the first outfit you touch
As you reach under your dusty bed.
Even if it is that one shirt you never
Wear with that curry stain above your left breast.
Don’t forget a pair of shades to hide
Your teary red eyes or angry stares
Sent to anyone who appears happy.
As you pull out of the parking lot.
Allow the wind to hit you as you accelerate
Fifteen miles above the speed limit.
Allow it to caress your cheeks, brush
By your neck, bounce
On your one hand on the steering.
Consciously, feel the wind as it blows
Away that loneliness
That once consumed you.
Allow the wind to sweep you away
From your solitude in your borrowed,
Or stolen car.
Turn right and proceed to park that
Car in any available spot.
You have arrived at that place of escape
For souls fed up of existing in a box
Of a room all alone forcing you
To keep yourself company.
Walk up the flight of stairs. Actually
No. Go back to the car and
Park near the escalators and allow
Them to take you up, up
To a place where if only for two hours
You will feel like part of a community,
Feel like you belong
In that place where
People go to get relief.
Borrow a car. If you must, steal
A car, any car with four wheels
With windows that wind down,
And an engine full of gas, a quarter tank
Will suffice.
Throw on the first outfit you touch
As you reach under your dusty bed.
Even if it is that one shirt you never
Wear with that curry stain above your left breast.
Don’t forget a pair of shades to hide
Your teary red eyes or angry stares
Sent to anyone who appears happy.
As you pull out of the parking lot.
Allow the wind to hit you as you accelerate
Fifteen miles above the speed limit.
Allow it to caress your cheeks, brush
By your neck, bounce
On your one hand on the steering.
Consciously, feel the wind as it blows
Away that loneliness
That once consumed you.
Allow the wind to sweep you away
From your solitude in your borrowed,
Or stolen car.
Turn right and proceed to park that
Car in any available spot.
You have arrived at that place of escape
For souls fed up of existing in a box
Of a room all alone forcing you
To keep yourself company.
Walk up the flight of stairs. Actually
No. Go back to the car and
Park near the escalators and allow
Them to take you up, up
To a place where if only for two hours
You will feel like part of a community,
Feel like you belong
In that place where
People go to get relief.