Maria José Ponte

Artist

One very early morning

At what cost to our senses come these very cheap flights?

Conveyor  belts of human flesh and luggage  alike,

All controlled  in long –  long cues,

Like cattle we are herded,

The airline staff, with their stony faces showing the strain,

Their performance is key to the cost of our flights,

Manhandled through the check in and not a smile to be had,

The human cost of my very – very cheap seat,

I am as nothing, in this loathsome process of efficiency,

And I sit on my plane seat with resentment in my heart,

But who’s to blame?

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This entry was posted on March 11, 2015 by in Poetry.
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