Mid-flight

I wanna be your hanger and
stand by your side while you shop
for endless hours, like a pilot waiting
on the hangar for the order to take off

your clothes in the middle of
the night, or the middle of
the ocean, or mid-flight flying
over the ocean at night

when the stewardess stresses
that we should fasten our seatbelts,
but our seatbelts are far in the cabin
while we are busy in the bathroom

breathing heavily, thrusted by
the violent turbulence, too busy
to care for the thuds outside and
only caring for this last moment.