From 'The Double' I Poem by Morgan Michaels

Soon a bell chimed and the seat belt light flashed on. The pilot's genial voice boomed over the loudspeaker.

'Ladies and gentlemen', we are about to begin our descent to Jose Marti International Airport. Please take your seats, insure that your seat-backs are in their upright position and that all carry-on luggage is securely stowed away. We should have you on the ground in twenty minutes'.

The flaps angled down and the nose of the plane sank gently. There came the click of seat-belts buckling, followed by the din of landing gear dropping, followed by an expectant silence. Sharp-eyed attendants stalked the aisles, scanning for reprobates.

About eighty miles out, Langley spotted the isle through his window over the wing. Minute by minute, it grew in size. A yellow strip edged the green of the coast. Slowly, it took the shape of no recognizable beast.

'Well, maybe a barracuda', thought Langley, 'gobbling up islets like bacon bits'-

An image supplied by memory.