a passenger in front of me
insists that pear whiskey exists
the steward smiles and continues
his search mission inside the mini-bar.
I haven’t as of yet encountered pear whisky
but try this one here
it may taste like pears
a fruity laugh ripples through the cabin
what’s it like, to have this job and fly every day?
I’m quite happy, the steward remarks,
Because I get to see the world and shop between flights:
kawałek świata—“a slice of the world”
and zakupy—“stocking up”—he says in Polish
I’m weary of flying
three hours of sleep
a flight delay
but his language sounds like home
shared word roots, from which
either garden might grow—
Ukrainian, or Polish
my muscles are blocks of concrete
I can neither move nor burst into tears
but the steward leans in closer:
would you like something to drink?
against my will, in the gravity of his smile
my lips echo his
night falls in the porthole
my knife falls on the cabin carpet
the steward hands me another knife
his wedding ring glints on his right hand
just like mine
though it should be on the left—
like theirs
how long is the delay?
two hours five minutes
do you have a layover?
yes, I’m heading to Kyiv
when is your flight?
I flinch:
and I thought you were real.
but this is a 2021 language model
lagging behind events that came after
I apologize for this, Madam, the newest models
serve in the business class
how may I assist you?
please repeat your request
I make my way to the business-class lavatory
and I see his copy:
the same steward,
the same smile mechanism
and the same movement
when he hands a passenger her spoon
only his wedding ring is on his left hand
like hers
