junk the woman next to me reads bossypants the man port the crossing i chew through naked lunch
for some reason
yet feel superior for it safe to say right now everything is junk off the right wing tantrums of fire gone wild on junk draw deep the prairie wind the field mice and bunny rabbits [and farmers] not embalmed by flame have lost their homes i wonder if they will turn to junk the bastard child three rows back screaming up the good air junk the fitful lightning down the back of my left thigh junk the whoopsie daisy bouts of turbulence junk the gay flight attendants condescension junk everyone is yellow or grey and at different intervals of erect a man has passed gas & attempts to play off he is asleep junk one lady has indentions on the back of her head where her ankles customarily go she says nothing yet continues to talk a banal tongue bucking off the tray tables junk i hear her crawl so far up her own ass the sun blushes & the clouds stop sending christmas cards mountains avalanche