Jets flew through my mind.
Gratitude arrived
when I could see freshly creased
vomit bags in the seat back folder
in front of me. Numbers like rain
shattering the sidewalk
that circles the garden
of my sanity.

I sit still with flames
licking my computational
mechanism and my mind emptied
into the vomit bag. Safe in my
jet seat, the small jets calmed me
as they flew out of my ears,
shaving my hair, making
me invisible.