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Archive for September, 2017

There is something in the air,
pressurized so we can breathe it,
that puts a knot in my chest every time I inhale
39,000 feet above the sea

There is something about the propeller vibrations
that mimic the muscles in
my legs and back

I am flying home.
I should be flying home to you –

I brought you a volcanic rock from a beach where
the road ends and some handmade soap
and a peppermint chocolate bar –

I’ll probably eat the chocolate
when I’m sad and put the soap
in the bathroom to use up as fast
as I can and set the rock on the windowsill
next to the crazy basil plant

There’s something about
the emergency exit row
that reminds me of the last time we flew
when I slept with my head on your soft shoulder

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