#flights
I used to think I kept you like a secret.
Is it a secret if no one knows it’s being kept?
Maybe I’ll never know, but
if I did have the chops to say it out loud,
I’d tell them that
I have dreams about that plane ride.
I’d take the 6AM flight just so
the colors of the sunrise would
chase me for a thousand miles.
I’d sip my hot coffee
with too much cream at
my window seat and
make small talk with
the older woman seated beside me.
She has a kind face and
takes this flight often to visit her
son and his family.
(He relocated for work,
but couldn’t pass up the salary.)
She’d ask if I’m coming or going.
“I’m not sure yet,” I’d reply, and
offer to buy her a drink,
as I revel in and relive
every crumb of our story with her.
It’s a good one, I think.
(And she thinks so too.)
She places her hand on mine, and,
with the sincerest of smiles,
wishes me well on my adventure.
She’s always there, and I like her.
I dream that baggage claim is
a ghost town, but I
recognize your eyes beyond the carousel
before I recognize my own blue suitcase.
Sometimes you have flowers in your hand,
but you always have a hug.
There’s excitement and understanding in it—
a relief that teeters on tears
and lips that waited for so long
to whisper, “Finally.”
And I feel so safe and found.
I’m at home
in a place I’ve never been before—
in arms that have never held me.
My blue suitcase— still circling.
I laugh, and I can’t wait to tell you
that I dream of you in color.
I quickly give you instructions
on how to find me again
in case we get lost.
I tell you dream flights are cheaper
if you’re in bed before 9PM.
I don’t know if you hear me,
but before I can ask,
I’m awake.
I’m alone.
You’re my secret again.
The secret I’ve never told.
BWI direct to XNA.
Aug 28, 2025
Aug 28, 2025 at 10:15 PM UTC
Dizzying heights
of love and achievements
holding close to my heart
my loves and friends
my love the most
my days and nights
my travels and delights
my vistas my mountains
my oceans my flights
darkness and light
with all my might
Apr 21, 2025
Apr 21, 2025 at 6:55 PM UTC
Out of the many inhabitants
Of your heart.
I still pace the downtown streets
Hoping to see your face among the
Crowd.
Whether you are leaving a plate of pasta
Or I catch you walking past the side of a building.
Of all the places I've been
I enjoy being here the most.
If by chance I see your face,
Whether you are alone
Or with company.
I'll keep my hello short
Around the landmark of your dimple
Most of the flights I'd like to take
Really are affordable
Jan 3, 2020
Jan 3, 2020 at 10:07 AM UTC
Look out the window
Green meadows and fluttering butterflies
Happy Laughs on the horizons
But they are not in sight
When sitting on cushioned aluminum chairs,
Looking at tired eyes, asking if these people are also in transit
Without a direct line
Hovering in distant lands
Tears fall at the thought of leaving everything you know for everything you wanted
So you cry two weeks before
How can tears premium package be bought?!
In the package reads “better to cry before than later”
Sep 27, 2019
Sep 27, 2019 at 3:27 PM UTC
I stare at the ice. My cheeks are burning, my hands are trembling. She looks at me staring at it. I look away quickly but look back at the ice when I see her head turn. She knows I need it. I see it melting in the cups she is setting out. Water. I need water.
Beside me is the wing, and a propeller is thrumming so loud it's making my head ache. I can imagine it spinning so fast the separate prongs are a blur, but I cannot see them move. There are windows in front of and behind my seat, but just far enough away to where I cannot easily see out of them. Just the red of the wing at a glance. A glimpse of white, and the red.
She steps towards me... but stops at the row in front of me. Water? She taps another woman's knee. Would you like some water? Oh! No. Was her response. What? I think. But it's free. She's giving it to you for free. I'm next. But then she turns away. Heads back towards the front. Noooo... she will offer me some?
Beside me the engine keeps thrumming and humming and drumming into my ears, into my head. The whole cabin shutters and squeaks and groans. A bolt is spinning loudly somewhere behind me. Maybe turning looser and looser until it falls off completely. This entire tin can is a ******** I am stuck inside the biggest *** toy ever created. We are vibrating up in the clouds, but who are we bringing pleasure? We are just the ones unlucky enough to get stuck inside.
Finally she turns to me. She is holding a tray full of tiny water bottles and small cups of ice. Water? She asks. Ice? Umm... both? I test her. She barely nods and hands me a plastic cup and a bottle. As I take them from her the coolness from the ice cup caresses my hand. Ice. Slowly I pour half of the tiny bottle into the tiny cup, watching the liquid. I take a sip and savor the taste. Water.
After a few sips, I dip my finger into the cup. Just the very tip. I take the droplet and smear it across my cheek. Then the other cheek. Cool, and refreshing on my flushed and burning face. Then it's gone. She comes back later and asks. More water? More ice? Yes. Both. This time I am not as careful; I pour as much of the bottle into the cup as I can. I'm holding the lid with one hand and the bottle with the other. The small plastic cup is clenched between my thighs. I try to set the bottle down after ******** the lid on but it falls the the floor. I lean across to pick it up and feel the cold. My water is spilling into my crotch, soaking my pants. My ****** feels cold and it's nice. Very nice. It is sad that all the water will be evaporated by the time we land.
After so much water I need to *** I look around then stand slowly. Two steps forward. She steps aside. I grasp the door handle and step in, closing it after me. My hip touches the door and the other side. My elbows hit the walls. I turn around and *** No sink to wash my hands. The room is stuffy, worse than the cabin. The smell of my own ***** is so strong I stifle a cough. When I flush, blue liquid seeps down from the top to the hole that opened for my waste. That's normal. But it keeps going. And going. Stop! I think. There's been enough water already wasted. As soon as I start to manually stop it, it shuts off. Good. I grab a sanitized napkin, rub it between my hands then go back to my seat.
The funny thing about this all, is that I am sitting in 3A. That is in the second row. This... this is first class.
Ironic. This is. Flying up so high and free... but still needing water. No matter where you go you need it. But even more ironic, is that when I crane my head back to look out the widow, I catch a glimpse of the ocean beneath us. So much water that we can't drink.
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 1:15 AM UTC
Sometimes I feel the dry air on my parched heart feel the faith in hope and love streaming out from the delta the fingers crossed timbers lost in the hurricane of hail Marys and weak end roller coasters, so many saccharin socials and UN I'd ent if ied flights sauce erd threw the night what will it take to cure me right? Fallow friend and hallowed brother dreams are where we reunite but I wish that fog would clear and I fear that rest just might your mother seems young at gaze but those bones are weary from the fight and I am weary too so I said all that just to say where the havens are you?
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 9:46 AM UTC