Daddy waited
in the dead-end
circle, reaching
out for me.
I couldn’t
find his embrace
find his answers
find his excuse for tears.
Faster. Faster.
He’d waited too
many years for
me to come looking.
Hadn’t he? I
needed to see
needed to know
needed a lot more.
Hot Landing
Hot runway.
Hot brakes.
Hot desert sand
outside the window,
wind-sculpted crystalline
slivers, reflecting a new
summer’s sun.
Good-bye, young lady.
Good-bye, Albert.
Good-bye, toupee.
Good-bye, dentures.
Good-bye, in-flight
glimpses of a soul,