10-Line Tuesday

March 24, 2015

airport poem

Even on a Tuesday morning, the flight is full. You are waiting at the gate
for the signal to gather your things and board, but in the meantime, 
your gaze goes to a television screen, where CNN is reporting a crash
somewhere in the French Alps. There are less than two feet between
you and the man sitting opposite, heading back to Newark with his wife
after their visit to Fort Lauderdale. Maybe you even ate at the same restaurant.
Maybe you passed him, unknowing, in a grocery aisle at home weeks ago.
No matter. You are here, now, sharing this strange, uneasy limbo
as rescuers fly in to search for survivors and reporters assemble their stories,
both of you searching the sky for answers, your knees almost touching.