Willing Suspension

I am on a trip now and this poem tries to capture the thoughts I often have when flying on an airplane.

                                                  Willing Suspension

                                   I am certain flying is an act of faith;
                                   all the other passengers decide not to doubt
                                   a forty ton plane can soar higher
                                   than a twelve pound bird – and off we go,
                                   fueled by fairy dust and happy thoughts.
                                   I, meanwhile, refuse to believe we’re even
                                   in the air, convincing myself the scene outside
                                   the plane window is no more real than
                                   the movie inside. It’s all an elaborate
                                   hoax staged by the same people who faked
                                   the lunar landing and Obama's birth certificate.
                                   Wheel away the Baltimore set, roll the CGI
                                   clouds, wheel on the Grand Canyon.
                                   I cling to this delusion, or else I’d begin
                                   to scream, trapped 30,000 feet above the earth
                                   in this glorified tin can: one giant leap
                                   for mankind, one backward step for me.


Note to foreign readers:  There are some people in America who claim we never landed on the moon and Obama was born outside of the U.S., and they claim any evidence to the contrary (film or documents) is faked.