I walk into the airport and hear a piano singing
10 fingers dancing over black and white keys
Like everything in life:
Ethereal.
It’s soothing and it’s puzzling
Why would someone even bother?
It’s Italy and it’s hot
Italians don’t drive
They dodge death.
Their impatience
And their need for speed
Is nothing short of spectacular, I think.
I wonder why sometimes a holiday is hell
But then the piano sobs softly
While a million feet march through the day
And I am feeling trapped on the runaway
We met a Greek
3 Immigrants and we saved a pup from certain death
The house was haunted so we didn’t sleep
I wept on the beach.
My eyes are tired and dried
The plane hits turbulence
I’m back.
Don’t really know why or how.
The plane touches down.
I don’t feel anything.