A. pays the seven dollars for a beer,
the flight attendant takes his twenty
and says that she will bring change shortly.
He pops the top and pours the beer with care,
waits for the foam to go. With seatbelt tight
and armrest lost to someone on his right,
he can barely move. He is snug as his son
in a denim carrier on his chest all those
years ago, and as content. He is safely
out of touch, can do nothing for anyone,
nor be asked to. He can lift his plastic cup.
He can sip beer through the remaining foam.
He can lower the cup. He can do no more,
so lets himself feel no more need be done.
Alone a while, and glad to be alone -
A. was away, and now is coming home.