To an Airline Hostess
by Sy Kahn

We are flying together, baby,
You, with your billboard smile,
Your pert hat and breasts
Hovering over me, ready,
To pluck coffee, aspirin and bourbon
From the passing clouds.

We are flying together,
But we are alone.
Perhaps no two people
In all of history
Have covered so much ground
Together, have stretched smiles
Over miles, have come so close
To the stars,
And remained so distant.

Where are we going, baby?
New York, Chicago, Denver,
San Francisco? Tokyo, Manila,
Hong Kong, Brisbane,
Do we share a destiny
As we rocket toward
Our destination? Are we
Quickened toward each other?
Perhaps it was better in
Stage coaches or in
Windjammers, or on obscure
Country walks where
We might have ambled.

We are flying, baby;
The sea wrinkles below
As we howl across the earth,
As we shred the clouds,
Faster than sound, yet
Neither space nor sound
Is less between us.
But we've shared some smiles
Riding these ten a minute miles.
Our destiny at our destination
Is to nod goodbye,
Having experienced great emptiness.