time traveling cross country
hovering above
a skin of clouds
revealing valley’s
clotted veins,
flying from a sinking sun
commiserating with the
dust on the window,
and I’m always boarding
never arriving—
pretending to be
from another city
engines melody,
my melancholic speculation
the sixth plane to the sixth state,
beginning to wonder
if I’m still that kid
who ran from home;
with a cartoon backpack
packed some T-shirts
a book for entertainment—
counts quarters, climbs steps:
“aren’t you a little young to be traveling alone?”
outgoings at a payphone
in Austin,
wants to go home,
but can’t figure out
how to get past the operator,
then buying a ticket
for another train
catching a different plane
always boarding
never arriving
