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  • Correy Pearlman


Joy is an empty seat

next to you on an airplane.

It shines and glimmers with the glare of the sun

the smooth leather

would be foolish to ignore

Its warm, welcoming,

outstretched arms.

You lift up the armrest

and sink into the soft cushion.

You nestle yourself into the

extra space and lie down.

Cozy, safe, and comfor------

“Excuse me, I’m supposed to sit there.”

And just like that

it’s gone.

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