First Class Poem by Randy McClave

They are always the first to board a plane
Then they are treated like royalty with a jet to reign,
They drink their wine in their first class seats
While we get cola and water, and nasty tasting treats,
A chef comes and caters their succulent prime meals
Our dinner arrives to us from a cart pushed on wheels
Their chairs stretched out to make comfortable beds
While we used our coats for pillows for our heads,
To listen to music we are given cheap earplugs to hear
They get an orchestra to which they do cheer,
A see through curtain is all that divides our classes
To me they all seemed like first class asses,
Their stewardess obeys their every want and wish
Our flight attendant ignores us while shaking his fist,
Their section is forbidden to us as a restricted territory
But, strangely enough we all shared the very same lavatory.

Randy L. McClave