29th September, '06

“…life's this game of inches. We're in hell right now, gentlemen. Believe me. And we can stay here, get the shit kicked out of us, or we can fight our way back, into the light. The inches we need are everywhere around us. We can climb out of hell, one inch at a time.”

— Tony D'Amato, as played by Al Pacino in ‘Any Given Sunday’ (1999)

Inside, the lights grow
dimmer, in anticipation of
some aerial drama.
On cue, a stage-hand races
along the aisle,
bearing cans
which she uses to spray on
both sides, leaving just
the faintest trace
of potpourri in the air.

A dense fog descends,
like dry ice,
through which the
‘No Smoking’ light flashes
and beeps at regular intervals.
Reading lights above
passengers heads are turned
on and off in some indecipherable
Morse code,
punching bullet holes
through the haze.

Meanwhile,
the shadows close in,
slowly seeping out
from under the seats and
overhead luggage bins.
The display on the screen
has now changed
to a map of the world,
a yellow dot indicating
the plane’s approximate location.

“In a few moments, the flight attendants will be passing around the cabin to offer you hot or cold drinks, as well as a selection of meals...”
It is at this point
the apparition emerges,
it’s ghost-like form appearing
to skip along the passage,
almost tripping over
the outstretched feet of
the lucky few
bestowed with sleep.
It is always the same vision,
that of a little lad,
a smiling spectre clad in
shorts and striped t-shirt,
a phantom of a boy
the memory of whom is
now consigned to a box
in a loft,
recalled occasionally
while reminiscing
about journeys gone by,
medication and baggage
-free journeys;
journeys that were spent
largely awake with little
at stake. In short,
journeys
of the sort that were no longer
possible
to undertake.

The yellow dot turns into a worm.