By Teddy Hempstead
The tall plane zooms roguishly through the magnificent sky.
Oh big sky worm! You are a metallic thing, a lovely tube
with lovely men in it, and a lovely stewardess called Micheline.
I drag my feet around the seats and run from end to end
while we dodge exceptionally unsafe buildings made of
wholly transparent and very dangerous glass.
I say to the stewardess “I want to get to know you” and
the plane immediately crashes, violently and with huge
anger and resentment, into a big rock.