Are you excited Stan

Excited about what

Our holiday

Of course I am

Just think in a few short hours

As I have said before

Stan and Jane deserve a sunshine break

I agree with you

Then why are you writing

Because I hate flying

It takes my mind off of flying

It is not really the flying that scares me

But I dislike hitting the ground at warp speed eight

What are you writing about

The Holocaust

A poem about The Holocaust

That is not the nicest of subjects Stan

I know

I also think that it is against flight rules

Here we are

Please do not hijack the plane

Please do not join the mile high club

Sitting on the wing is not permitted

No writing poems about The Holocaust

There you are Stan you are breaking the rules

What are they going to do chuck me off the plane

Yes

At thirty-seven thousand feet

Stan

Yes

Just for Jane and I will do anything you like

Anything

Just do not be so serious

We are off on hols

No poems about the holocaust

My Grandma was Jewish

I know

Just write another poem

For you Jane nothing

What is it going to be about

Existentialism and Launderettes

I wish I had never asked

You choose Jane

I will check in the flight rule book

Existentialism and Launderettes

There is nothing here as far as I can see

Wow what a surprise

Look Stan there is a storm cloud

A very big storm cloud

Where

Over there

We are heading straight for it

Not such a piece of shit now are we

Think of the lightning and the turbulence

Who knows they might find your silly notebook

In a dusty field in Central Spain

Burnt on the edges but still readable

Stan’s final poems so sad

You are a bitch Jane a sadistic bitch

I will never forgive you for this

Close your eyes Stan

I will hold your hand

My sad big baby boy