States of Mind

Herbstbusch - Autumn Bush 50 x 60 cm Acryl/Oilsticks/Oilpastel

AIRBORNE

We’re not even airborne yet

and they offer us a sedative—a mix

of white wine and carbonated water.

Eighty-three passengers are pretending 

they don’t have to burp,

whispering excuse me every 20 seconds

through tightly clenched fists. Please

raise that plastic shutter, thank you, and while you’re

at it could you give me a massage? Absolutely nothing

would agree with me more right now 

than a strong shot of uncomplicated pleasure

and as fast as possible. Such was Thailand.

On the beach. A roofless palm-thatched hut.

Slicked with coconut oil and pulled up to

heaven by the shaft of life. Amen. And now?

There’s a lump in my throat, and it’s difficult to swallow

air, saliva, anything. Just sit back and feel free, a voice advises, 

to feel the snake of feeling that coils around your neck

till you can’t breathe anymore, till you can’t even tell

you’re not breathing anymore, till some exhausted intern

in an understaffed urban emergency room

pronounces me dead, and who, when he turns his

slump-shouldered back, I give the slip

and live to die another day. Numbers call us to air.

Distractions: behind every smile—plots, puzzles,

a tiny nest of deceit. Believe nothing. The girl who

spills her wine spritzer in your lap? She smiles; but instead

of paranoia—a vicious plot to get you wet, or mere accident?—

in your heart

there wells up a great wave of peace,

plenitude and delusion. Believe everything. Shit, why not?

And we’re not even airborne yet. 

One - Aimee Mann