A Luta Continua

At thirty thousand feet
I tear through the sky at five hundred
Headed cross country
On this American Airlines flight where
Wings like eagles, soar over the
Patchwork of agriculture

I get my cranberry & club soda,
The hot towel and the skymall mag
I pour the micro bottle of gin
The drink sizzles

Before numbing, before taking off my shoes,
I look around the first class section
And I see nineteen other white men
Most of them wear suits, some wear
Sweater vests with ties

I raise my plastic cup, drink half of it
And press the button that lets me recline

And as the African-American stewardess
Brings me my
Air tight pretzels and peanuts,
The club sandwich,
And a few credit card offers,

I think about how twenty of the twenty
Around me are white males
And not black, brown, red or yellow
I think back to my teens when my best friend
Didn’t get the job because the owner was racist

I think about, Malcolm, Martin, Emmet, Harriet, Huey, Rosa
And all the others that have laid down
A foundation for all of us to walk on
And now I fly with a class of white
Knowing that the ground is growing
Stronger one day at a time. And I can’t help but
Feel the turbulence shaking my brain
From one cloud to the next
This is going to be a long flight!

I see the sweat stains under the woman’s long sleeve
And I think privately
While setting down my drink
How long until we can ALL just
Push a button
Sit back, and enjoy the flight?