Terminal

Terminal.
 
Flight 230
Taxies slowly,
 
down the runway.
You are wanting
 
are wanting for things,
checking them off
 
like the lists children
make before
 
Christmas.
You want things
 
you can’t have,
for things to be
 
as they were or
for things to be
 
different or for
the progression
 
of cells to reverse
or just maybe
 
for the laws
of physics to
 
be repealed.
Even if just
 
for a day -so
you could open
 
the airplane
window and
 
catch a cloud
in a jar for her
 
like when she
was small and
 
she sat in the
seat next to you
 
smiling holding
everything you
 
could of ever
wanted in the
 
empty blue
(“blue so the
 
cloud will feel at
home.”  she tells you)
glass jar
on her lap.

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