Hard to imagine getting anywhere near another semi- nude encounter down this concrete slab of interstate, the two of us all thumbs— white-throated swifts mating mid-flight instead of buckets of crispy wings thrown down hoi polloi— an army of mouths eager to feed left without any lasting sustenance. Best get
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Intermittent wet under cloud cover, dry where you are. All day this rain without you—so many planes above the cloud line carrying strangers either closer or farther away from one another while you and I remain grounded. Are we moving anyway towards something finer than what the day might bring or is this an illusion, a stay against everything unforeseen—tiny bottles clinking as the carts make their way down the narrow aisle no matter what class we find ourselves seated in, your voice the captain's voice even if the masks do not inflate and there's no one here to help me put mine on first— my head cradled between your knees.