Turbulence: Night Flight to Cairo.
Dice in a meaty palm, our edges chafe. Side by side we rock, squeezed in the narrow row. Clamped in our seats, we let elbows and knees creep up to checkpoints. Our bulks slide against communal barricades. Aleph / alif, our arms and legs shape silent alphabets. We are Shiite and Jew, sharing one ritual salaam and dovening. Dreams seep out between us, surely as bacteria stream from a sealed cartouche. We breathe each other in. Eleven hours before we shudder to a stop. Unforgiving light will bear down on us, our separate lots shake from the jar. We'll claim our effects. But for now, habiba, chavera sheli, your burka laps across my jeans. Almost I have you in my arms.
habiba (Arabic)--beloved one (feminine) chavera sheli (Hebrew)--dear friend (feminine)