Leaving Las VegaSnack

I used to write a lot of poetry.

Now it's two years later

and I'm stuck on a plane

with some schoolmarmy flight attendants,

a dude from Vassar on my left flank,

a chick from Bard on my right,

a hacking cough, Claritin notwithstanding,

and some Rilke.

They put us in a hangar

to dry the ice off our wings

so we left two hours late.

I have no way out of Vegas,

which some would deem no awful thing.

Maybe I'll stay at the Excalibur

and walk around and take pictures

or collect porn advertisements

for my yet-to-be-titled poen scrapbook.

Maybe I'll rent a car

and be slightly afraid as I venture,

alone,

across the Hoover dam

into the darkness and subsequent light.

The future holds so much potential.

The world is full of possibility.

-scribbled last Saturday, on a plane (eventually) headed home for the holidays.