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Click hereThe venerable Boeing 707 Freighter
Aluminum Derelict, pushed off the edge of the tarmac
Beside the Peruvian jungle airstrip,
Hot Afternoon, we drink our too-sweet Inca Kolas
Use our pigmy Spanish to talk our way past the guard
Who seems more interested in your halter top and shorts
Then our reason to pass his post,
Up in the freighter, the cockpit stripped of anything usable
The emergency doors open or missing
The area much smaller than we remember
When we rode in the back row of that shinny Pan Am 707
On the way to Rio, when was that? Back in the 70s –
Was that you? Or just a story we tell others.
We sit, like we did in that Pan Am jet ages ago
Elbow to elbow, knee to knee
Your hand on my knee, mine on yours
Was it me who kissed you, or you who kissed me
Who suggested, indicated, imitated the action
Repeated hundreds, thousands, millions of times, I’m sure
Between, couples in situations of opportunity
Elevators, back seats, park benches, airplanes
As we press against each other, I wonder
Has this been done, here, before
The feeling of excitement, expectation, release
Hand in the cookie jar –
Later we walk past the guard,
He must know what we did
How could he not?
You flash him a smile and
Gracias senior
You’re welcome, he says in English
Was it good, he asked
Si, you say, very nice indeed …