In the morning, saying goodbye to Bangkok

In the morning, having said goodbye to Bangkok, We wait for a taxi, 2 hours till check-in. A hearty breakfast, washed down with juice From a squashed orange. Few words, a little slower than a waltz, Carefully, like a cobra to the flute, With luggage, in a state of trance, From the taxi all the way to the gate. Kids are the little flowers in a bouquet But they often act quite cheeky, They teach grown-ups to live in every moment And to sleep on the go, standing up. A couple of words on the security routine: They take away knives and bottles. Everyone's in white rubber gloves. It's all serious, not a hint of a smirk. Lugging suitcases, in silence, With a tightrope walker's balance, And with a smile that's a little wolfish — What if they take me for a terrorist. I thought how nice it'd be if, by chance, In my passport, in the frame of a square stamp, Instead of the stamp and a banal date They wrote — "We're waiting for you to come back." We're not criminals, it seems, but still The atmosphere of such a procedure Weighs on you so that thinking becomes improper Even for the stewardess herself. It's all behind us, sorrow and joy. Our seats — thirty F and E. On board for two hours we've got To watch the beauty of the Earth. So with Boyarsky, my wife and our things, Having picked up fifty bucks' worth of perfume, And with our coffee-soaked old bones We trudge to the tail of the airplane's hold. The world was changing, art and fashion. And I was changing too, in size Under the influence of my genetic code I barely squeezed into my seat. I took up all the free space, And having heard the pilot's message, Having finally stowed my riches, I began to dream of a successful flight. I read that accidents in the sky Are safer than routes on the ground. Up there it's many times fewer — they write on the web, Just up to three hundred corpses a year. Pondering the threat to life Based on these terrible figures, I started listening in total seriousness About the life vest and the emergency exit. I felt over the brochure with a hasty glance, But the effect of the unfinished coffee Plus signals down below from the manipura Could lead to a worse catastrophe. My better half demands my hand, I touch her sweaty palm. All the sounds turned into silence… Somehow the houses shrank so fast. And now the pulse comes back to normal The crew's blood sugar is dropping The strong smell of the airline feed Instantly whips everyone into a frenzy. Someone eats, someone swallowing drool Regrets having no cash on them. Someone would rather go hungry — Fewer indecent sounds will come out. Gobbling the content of their lunch boxes Chewing steadily, they stare at their screens. Someone got so carried away by the process They're a step away from eternal nirvana. At first, seemingly lost in oblivion, In a state of calm and laziness, A passenger, leaning back slightly, Crushed my knees with her seat. I'm not happy with this role myself Of the one who spoils the intermission. But the ringing of the growing pain Makes me forget all sense of tact. Nevertheless, I didn't take French leave, But in a booming tone, Like an ambassador of a whole Aryan race, I tossed an impersonal I’m sorry into the air. And quietly, as gently as I could, I lightly, carefully touched her shoulder Maybe sleep is far more needed, And my problem is so trivial. It turned out the lady in front, Foreseeing the chance of a scene, Under her headphones, right at takeoff, Had shoved away all her manners. And madam, revealing her looks, The shape of her eyes, a proud natural timbre, Showed unhurriedness in her movements — Well, what do you know — our own folk Kazakhstan. After all, my туу туралы куэлик says I was born in the SSR, the Kazakh one. So, being from the same old lands, We were both lured by Vietnamese nature. And in my imaginings the lady Melted into a good-natured smile Answering — sorry, likewise, It was, you know, unintended, by mistake. But reality can be harsh, Turning nonsense into dilemmas. And the señora, without a kind word, Informs me — Your problem. That the problems are mine — that's clear, It wasn't her members that got pinched. I sense the air's turned dangerous And I answer in the same style: And pulling myself together in split seconds, Gulping down five liters of oxygen, I'm ready to give her a proper earful What follows is better read in subtitles. Thank God, he was somewhere nearby Or maybe we just got a little closer. He whispered: with this poison You'll only humiliate yourself more. Out of nowhere, as if from the abyss, My darling suddenly said Move up, please, be so kind, Blinking her little eyes hard. For a moment time froze. I felt freedom in my loins. The lady's conscience, a bit glumly, Put the seatback back in place. Looking at the clouds through the window, I asked forgiveness for my countrywoman. Chuckling a little to myself I started writing down a poem.