outside the window II

At 38,000 feet
Felicitiy's plump
jelly bean
pink lips
glisten.
Her skin is
stroke-me-smooth
cream pale
punctured once
beneath her
bottom lip.
Grey wolf eyes
stare into mine,
Can I help you with anything?
Outside the window
the sky is
slap, bang
in your face
blue.
Clouds
dazzle whiter
than
washing powder
advertisments.
February ends.
One of us
is in trouble.
I tell it
the only way
I know.
Face autumn with the
Legions of Love
at your shoulder.