Thanks to Lee Ann Ann Roripaugh for allowing me to marry her beautiful photo to a poem I wrote maybe 25-30 years ago. I have added the link to her work for you to enjoy!
My first flight from LaGuardia
was in the dark,
fireflies of freezing rain
riding the arrows
of a tightly strung wind.
Baggage handlers’ rubber soles
skating
from
cart
to
conveyor.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Men ogling the asses
of flight attendants
and hinting for early drinks.
The lungs of babies singing
over the tinny words of the pilot.
Outside, waddling figures with hoses
swaddling us with a coating.
The guy next to me grunts
something about de-icing the plane.
I was comforted,
knowing as we lifted off
that we would be slipping
from our crystal cocoon,
leaving it to melt on the runway.