The Long Good-Bye
Dec 1 2008


She said the parting is hard —
the separation,
her fear of flying.

The train is less anxiety,
but even harder
— the long good-bye,
the wet embrace,
the crowded platform
waving.

And the bus leaves
from the bad part of town.
So it’s a hurried kiss
in the chilly damp
as you watch your back,
and the air turns blue with diesel.

While the airport
is a high security fortress
of soaring glass,
waving sadly
from snaking lines and distant ramps,
packed
with harassed fellow travelers.
Who are all silently contemplating
the improbability of flight.

Or we both can fly
she offered brightly,
in our very own row
snuggling
as attendants glare disapprovingly —
belts undone,
seats reclined,
table trays a heedless mess.
And in the thin over-heated air,
a mile high
and getting breathless.