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Inside the airplane
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There are three sections in the plane I'm flying:
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First there is the smoking section
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Inside the atmosphere is thick
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outside the air supports us.
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It is in this rear section
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that sentences are formed from words
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and from sentences strung together
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stories are created.
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Next is the middle section, where
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squished together we sit
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as body parts compacted
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within a body
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moulded in our seats, belts fastened.
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From the third section the plane
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is propelled and directed.
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Even in a turn the plane goes straight.
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Never does it reverse, advance it must
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Entrance to this cabin is strictly forbidden
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but when the door is open I do peek in.
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The flight attendant, with wings pinned on her lapel
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is the coordinator of the sections.
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She makes her rounds in a straight line
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Though she walks to the rear to serve
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she nevertheless gets carried forward in a larger loop.
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Poured in her uniform jacket suit, poured into the corridor
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like the cart that she pushes and shoves.
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It is she who starts the circulation,
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who distributes, presents, collects and gathers
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she sets the example
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she is my eyes and ears
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through her the flight can continue
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through her the middle
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is welded to the head and tail.
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Sometimes in the rear she rests
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and peers down the aisle
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and her look will stop at the back
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of the person (blindly) following the path he must follow.
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Only at the journey's end
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when there is no more distance
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to be covered
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and the time line
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has been unfolded,
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will she walk forward
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will he turn around
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and walk toward her.
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Then, only then
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will they embrace.
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