10/14/01
DFW-LAX
#2

Since the tragedy
We fly a little farther
Away from the sun.

Imagine looking
Into the sky at a kite
And feeling cold fear.

I fear that my shoe
Smelling like a gas station
Will be thought a threat.

Hold me close and then
Hand me my carry on bag
I’ll be back, you’ll see!!!

It’s strange how a phrase
A master’s string of triplets
Brings me hope and comfort

If there is a call
I would hope I would answer
To be of service.

In this moment
I feel that I am aligned
Will-wise, for a change.

Find this page of words
And know that my life is great
All else is self talk.

A delicate hand
Holds that which is important
For the quiet few.