Biz Trip

Airplane seats never fit his body.
Not just his legs,
though there wasn’t enough legroom, that was for sure.
And you lower the tray and it goes right up
into his rib cage, like he’s a grown man
sitting in a baby-sized high-chair. And the day is scraping
baby food off his face with a small
spoon, cool metal, plastic nubbin of a concave
food-holding dip at the end.
And putting that face-warmed leftover vegetable goo
back into a
squat bottle.

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