Long hauled.

A trick of flight,
the one where I
am coccooned and
fuselagenous hurled
backward in time with
bugger all sleep,
the one that makes
the last month a coiled,
muzzy fuzzball-still warm
but dead to me (for at least
a week after I get back),
a trick of flight that sets
upon me like a kilo of valium
laced with something adrenal
making me equally awake
and asleep while towards the
back of the plane a big lady's
deep veins begin to thromb
somewhere over Sumatra.