Crossing the Pacific, the plane briefly sighs.
On the way, on my way
Leaving the security and/or familiarity of
Cold and snow, Connecticut deep
Friends and family, love and sure things
(CT, the land of steady habits)
Crossing first through Chicago, with its broad shoulders
And mid-west sensibility,
Where kind strangers, doing their jobs, but with a song
Help book me straight through
On this time/place machine
And seated me in an exit seat too
No charge, leg room, a little luxury
(Good on ya mate, as my brother would text)
And I have no remorse, few regrets,
That may follow, though I doubt so.
I am gone long, but not likely forever
I am gone far, but not completely forgotten
I am gone deep, but still in their dreams gently,
So it seems.
And I know, when I land in Hawaii that it will inch me
Nudge me, osmotically
Move me a little closer to some other way
Maybe more carefree
Maybe more easy of spirit
Maybe I will dream and sleep
Listening to the rain
Feeling the sun on the tops of my feet.
I am willing to be enchanted.