Squashed tight spaces
Though little I am crushed
In with a baby
Babies hate stillness
Discomfort, bedlam follows
Airborne Smarties, toys
At least he’s quiet
Quietly throwing objects
Hate me, I chose this
Babies shouldn’t fly
People shouldn’t fly period
But babies for sure
Even now, still flat
Air travel has crushed me
Junk food, wine, gossip
Only a Band-Aid
My two dimensional soul
Formerly 3-D
Tired drama queen
Say thanks for the right to fly
Travel is fun no?
Your regularly scheduled Unwashed shall return next week. Tragically, passage by plane has all but stolen her will to live. In the meantime, you can find her convalescing on the couch while her son watches endless episodes of Peppa Pig. Sweet alcohol and pictures of high fashion can be shipped directly to her house. She will answer the door in pyjamas, with wild, unkempt Medusa hair.
The Great Unwashed 
Lol. Thank you for the wonderful visit
You’re welcome. Love you. Even when I’m squashed in with Mini Tex into what I’m certain is not enough space for a human being.
Note, dear readers, that according to the syllable rules of Haikus, Unwashed pronounces squashed and crushed as “squash-ed” and “crush-ed”. Right, Unwash-ed?
Really? You HAD to out my error?
Dear readers,
This is my husband. Tex is a robot who never makes mistakes. I wish I was kidding. Robots are difficult to live with at times. Mostly the times when they point out that I’m wrong.
Sincerely
Unwash-ed
…and more comment love…
I’m going to take ALL of your comment love. Tex deserves none of it in this instance. Also robots don’t have a use for love.