Cold Thoughts While Our Plane

I watched light sluice the whalebone ceiling

of the Boeing 737

as shards of ice slice through freezing rivers,

colder than the air temperature projected for our flight

at 30,000 feet above sea level (-48 degrees Fahrenheit).

Which, now that I mention it,

is also much colder than the water

that embraces the glass tunnel in an aquarium

(6 ½ inch thick Plexiglas),

still a rather thin barrier

between the shark and my upturned gaze

that peers nauseously into triplicate rows

of boomerang grins.

I am grateful no sharks float above my five foot ceiling

just the freeze dried jet stream,

warded off by the miraculous 1/16 inch aluminum casing

of this commercial airliner,

and triplicate rows of fluorescent bulbs

that hesitantly suggest

"fasten seat belts while seated"

which I'm not completely sure

holds the same level of command

over the people within this thin aluminum tube

in which I will soon be flying.

Or the grasping hands of the jet stream

(average of 110 miles per hour)

with whom my fate would quickly rest

should Newton's Third Law choose to exert it's will

over this glorious invention of humanity

which was built to defy the will of gravity

for the Wright brothers amusement

and our modern convenience.