Lucía M. Polis The Poetry of

air canada one forty four
suddenly I am raised to godlike status
apotheosis cum double double

around me germans chatter
in sharp vocables laugh

as a deafmute bavarian dervish
sells his birthright for bottles
of liquid wrath (im miniatur

beer is the last thing I need right now
but I get it anyway

a quick refuel for my run to the gate
where on lufthansa flight one oh eight
a blonde stewardess with a brilliant smile

will ask me
vood you like anysink to trink?