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.