In Spirit
How is it that my nearly-two-week visit with you, Linda,
Could disappear so swiftly, into thin mist,
Without so much as whispering a parting kiss,
Reiterating, as they put closure to, my final words —
"I'm really going to miss you."
Sitting here, in this transit-camp airport,
Tasting disconsolateness, afterglow, tinges of sorrow,
In sips of acidic, kiosk-vended coffee,
I listen, amidst ubiquitous cell-phone disclosures,
For the slightest evocation of your voice.
Suddenly, I hear your presence addressing my sadness,
Possessing me, with comforting recognition —
"But isn't it nice to have someone to miss,
Someone who misses you, too, misses you so much,
She's going to fly home with you, in spirit?"
12/01/10 - (2)
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