A Midwest Vacation

Looking at the carefully divvied up world beneath me,
I notice frosted cellophane above.
It covers this glass casserole dish with perfection.
The 35,000 feet that separates me and the green beans at the bottom seems a non-issue,
gravity is always on.

I cut the atmosphere in half with the ease of a knife moving through the fingernail of a fourteen year old cub scout.
A cliché goatee and his cross necklace sits next to me; they pretend to be tough for their Bud Light lime wife.
I bet he had a good time sitting in the same chair on the same beach drinking the same beer smoking the same cigarettes his daddy smoked.
I bet they wish they drove home.

A burning rose tattoo sneaks out of his plain white T just below his block O hat.
I must admit, he's got me there, I am now intimidated by his overt heterosexuality.
The only preferred option for seat partners would be his darlin' misses,
and I'm not trying to get my leg hairs stuck in her rhinestones.

Yeah sure, I just came from the same goddamn beach where I sat on the same bullshit chair drinking some actually pretty damn good beer smoking no cigarettes because I love my mom.
So I have little room to complain, but I tell you what,
If this Chad Kroeger wannabe coughs on me one more time, there's very little that will stop me from turning off my airplane mode and sending this bitch into a nose dive towards the green beans.
I love vacation.