January 7, 2015


The vapor trail
cuts the sky above,
a thin white line
set against the blue.

Just another jet
making time,
it's really
nothing new.

I'm scattered
all over, down below, 
falling fast
out of love.

By the window
you're asleep,
dreaming what it means
to be you.

The attendant rolls
her full cart past, 
knowing there's nothing
she can do.