Plane Etiquette

A sneeze pregnant with disease,
she’s reading a dirty magazine
on the plane, in the seat next to me,
dropping snot-crusted tissue
and rubbing her face
all over her sleeves
I dream only hypothetically,
Ma’m, if you could please,
release your nose grease
away from me, preferably
in the space between
the garbage and your teeth,
because I can already barely breathe
something so calm, so serene
she would gladly believe my
mild gesture of courtesy
like a hygienic call from a referee,
because on this plane, when all
we see are clouds and a hint of blue
from the surface of the sea, we have to
plead silently: Please don’t bother me,
or else you’ll get what you see:
an angry man with gritted teeth
within arms reach of the door
labeled “Emergency”!