The Airplane Tanka Airplane, in my seat, in a place I don't belong, sweating a river. I'm sticky like marmalade, parsing each thump, bump, and creak. There is me, here me, in row 33, got to pee, humble me, scared to move, a guy with a crew cut sneers, is he reading Soldier of Fortune? When we land, relief! Superior to bran or oats, existential clear out; flush out the self-doubt of life, seeds of the end once feared.