The last time I was in a plane I heard my own voice again.
Ears stuffed with altitude and decoy headphones.
Politely
unavailable to the passenger sitting close enough
to be my date
if I were on a barstool and the peanuts were really free.
My voice,
searching for me,
touching my finger tips and just out of reach. 
Ricocheting in a vessel 
where stray bullets and thoughts could be dangerous.
A girl’s got to harness those things to keep
everyone safe.
Or not.
So it flew, and I flew
and I stopped trying to catch my voice
and followed it instead.