bad poem written on the plane home
after nine gin & tonics
(for Erica

air canada lime & foreign gin, straight
from the british capital

seven long hours

the world is the colour of blue
& blue is the colour

of the distant world

travel tribute to the late queen mum, a taste
of bombay sapphire, & last colonial sips

why do I have ice in my glass?
& this stewardess, an english masters

from sfu, so way down
on the ground

english is not history

calls my poem despair, delusion
& unrequited love

the boer war, when
the water bad

& lime held scurvy just

one impossible satellite
around another

my head up in the clouds, I am
legitimately there, &

somewhere else, a no

the pin her name makes

thousands of what from home