The terminal doors swung open,
and out came the flight attendants,
gorgeous creatures
with legs like flamingos,
so long you could wrap them
around your neck.
Then out stepped the pilot,
escorted by two flamingos on either side,
and everyone in the terminal smiled and nodded at him
while he smiled back,
his old, experienced face
giving off an assuring smile.
Behind him came
the co-pilot,
a much younger man
without the grizzled and weathered
look about him.
But in reality
he was the pilot,
and the older man
was his subordinate.
You could tell by the number
of stripes on his sleeve,
and by the way he stood tall,
almost on tiptoe,
intent on showing the world
that he was a bigger man
than the one who came before him.

*inspired by a scene at the Manila Domestic Airport, 3 Feb 2012
and the radio show Cabin Pressure

Sting Lacson

A writer. By degree and by profession. Also strongly advocates ten-finger typing to all writers because that's what you do for a living, so be efficient at it.

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My Literary Side

"The Words come from the Divine; from the Muse the Idea. The Poet merely transcribes." ┼Old Sumerian proverb

(Kidding, I made that up. LOL)