Parody of "Mount Tam" by
from her album, "Chickasaw Mountain"
Here I sit at the front of the plane,
might as well be a freeway lane
or the depths of a chimney stack.
The flight is smooth but the air is gray
with the breath of the smokers that drifts my way
from the seats just a few rows back.
So if there be
any on board
who must light up
for the short duration of flight
than for the short duration of flight
please step outside.
Pressures slows through the cabin seals.
The filters get more than they can field
And here is a noxious cloud.
It's tendrils run through the intake duct
through the maze of the vents where the air is sucked
and supplied to the front row crowd.
Studies show that recycled smoke
make smoking sections a useless joke.
The whole cabin space will fill.
The blood and urine of those who refraim
show nicotene of the back of the plane
invading their bodies, still.
We who need to travel by air
Find ourselves in the dragon's lair
of a vice that we did not choose.
They'll wreck their bodies and that's just fine
but the graves they're digging should not be mine
nor the kids nor the cabin crew.