from this slim window
We leave California as the sun is arcing past morning clouds,
but just a few hours in, somewhere over Lake Erie, the sky
begins to dim. My seat neighbor is cradling his new baby,
and I, not wanting to disturb, do not ask him to get up so I can stretch
my legs or pee. Instead, I keep juggling the views: outside, where
the dwindling light still reveals the geography below; and in,
where a tiny girl rests serenely in the arms of her father. The truth is,
I don't want either to end - not the borderless map visible from this slim window,
not the intimacy of sleep a stranger has permitted me to witness.
We are in the belly of the beast, some might say, but I - for one - don't mind the wait.