Free-Range Human
Free-Range Human
Inside my cage, pinned
between seat back and tray table,
craning for a glimpse of sky.
Booze costs five bucks/five euros.
A smoke costs 250 bucks and 10 years,
yet the man ahead of me is lighting up
his shoe, while the one beyond is scratching
his itchy crotch.
Am I chicken
to want out?
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Authors: Ben Langhinrichs. Form: Poem. Length: 10 lines. Editor who accepted this story: Previous Editors.
Author Bio
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