Love-making in Air
From our UK edition
Black swifts in the sky ascend, soar and glide. They turn all about, seem not to collide. When feeling great joy they scream and they sing. They swoop and they love to mate on the wing. And we on our flight are feeling the same. We eye up the crowd and drink our champagne. With blankets above, seats set to recline, we touch and embrace. Mile-high we entwine. This freedom in air — it must be our right (despite paunches and fat) to like sex at a height.