His eyes seem to be
almost as if he is sleeping,
dreaming of New York City and
bright lights and other girls
dancing among flashing strobes,
their trendy halters halting his breathing
and startling him back into awareness.

He realizes he’s been resting
his cheek on his knuckle, though
all he can really feel is numbness and
a slight tingle as his nerves begin to increase
to match the angle of the plane.

The jolt of landing reawakens his arm
and the buzzing bee inside his brain
as he envisions with an almost painful smile
a perfect dive into the great water before him.

He is there and I am here, but
my hair is dripping wet.