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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473468" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>air travel in a Dakota</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473468" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Air Travel in a Dakota (1956) </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473468" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">White as sheet, the virtual page in front of me, I want to compose a gentle <br>whisper of a memory. Thought of my first flight, an old Dakota plane, that <br>looked like a diesel stinking bus inside. I looked under the seat to find <br>the parachute, but the steward said there weren’t any. Disappointing I had <br>seen myself jumping out off the burning plane land safely and be in <br>the newspapers. The steward handed out sweets I pretended to eat one, <br>thought it might be a drug to keep us quiet, this made sense since many of <br>the passengers were drunk. Turbulence, like driving on a bad country lane, <br>I threw up in a paper bag. The plane landed in Sweden, the flight had only <br>lasted an hour. Walked tall across the grey tarmac, nonchalant presented <br>my passport to an immigration officer. Here comes a seasoned traveler.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Oskar+Hansen">Oskar Hansen</a></strong></div>

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