Leaving You

It goes check-in, checkpoint, bar, bathroom, board

On my trip away from you

We pass through the bulkhead to stow in overheads

Sit down, strap in and let the anxiety build

Earlier in the day, I washed, packed and panicked

A few hours prior, I paid all my bills

A short while later, I lugged bags to the car’s trunk

Key in ignition, driving further from you

The stewardess tells us where the exits are located

Some woman in polyester, she’s bored as she says

That the buckle goes this way; the cushion can float

Lifesaving info that we all ignore

The day before I left, you learned that I love you

Out of nowhere - left-field - my fingers pound keys

Imagine my horror when I can’t read your expression

Imagine my glee when the affection is returned

We taxi to runway and throttle to airborne

Outside the window, the world streaks by

Five dollars per little bottle because I can’t sleep upright

Five hours I sit there and write and write

And now that I’m out here, on this vacation

A place for relaxation; a locale abroad

I see you in my head and feel you in my veins

I can’t think of anything but when I’m to return

In exactly four hours, I’ll return the rental car

Then check-in, shoes off, x-ray, bar, board

I’ll pay five bucks for a drink and lower my tray table

Back in time three hours; back in town with you

I’ll greet you at work the following morning

And hope up on high that you smile when you see me

I’ll punch in, suit up, log in and roll out

And somewhere, in another car, you’ll be doing the same

At some point, under night’s starlight, I’ll catch you alone

If your lips quiver, then my hands will shake

I’ll get closer and closer; you’ll stand suddenly still

But a surveillance camera or coworker will keep us apart

One day it’ll go: phone call, short drive, clandestine meeting

I’ll pray to the heavens that you don’t stay back

And though strangers will all file past us in daylight

In my field of vision, it’ll just be you

Daniel Silver