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