The world falls out below him
For no reason he can see
So he looks around
On his way to the other “home”
A flight attendant offers soda, or water
But she is actually an international spy,
Keeping an eye on the old man
Who sits aloof in his rumpled suit.

Invisible eyes shift to look elsewhere
To the empty seat in front of him
It’s owner seems to have gone
To the the bathroom, but actually
Has just been stricken with a fear of planes
And is in search of a parachute.

The flight attendant international spy
Stops to ask whether the invisible is thirsty.
She cannot see me,  the invisible thinks
Hearing no response she asks again
And again is met with silence.
Quiet is an ink that has stained him
A murky, monotonous shade of mute

His parents fight over him
His parents fight over nothing

The man sitting next to him
Has a window seat
He opens the blind, outside are clouds
The invisible leans over and looks
He sees his reflection and balks
“Hey!” the man asserts moodily
The non-invisible has closed the blind,
So that he can be invisible again
Once again he doesn’t see himself.