Friday, August 10, 2007

Blasé about Air Travel

At breakneck speed, tin cans career
Through unpolluted atmosphere
To bring us to our tourist destinations.
Within the gap ‘twixt clouds and space,
They hurtle at a fright’ning pace
O’er territory governed by small nations.

And way below, without a qualm,
These foreign folk show no alarm
At all these ticking time-bombs o’er their houses.
While up above we yawn and stretch
And doze and stare and cry and retch
And re-arrange the folds within our trousers.

No comments: