It’s always breakfast, these lazy afternoons, eggs sunny with hash browns. Milk spilled into the coffee. Slow, slow. Airplanes fly low today. If we looked up, we’d see landing gear, and all the small windows, oval and staring. Tiny, preventing too true a view. It’s goodbye already, sweetening our hellos. We learn, hand to mouth, how to listen, after the sky falls, when nothing worse can be said.
Poetry on Wheels:
An Anthology of King County’s Poetry on Buses Program 1997–2005
Floating Bridge Press, Seattle, WA, 2006