The Ozzie walked as if he owned all the territory around,
boot heels loud against the polished marble hall,
phone to his head.
Broadcasting his finances,
his trades
his status.

Out of synch
I stood off to the side,
out of the flow,
eating two scoops of bannoffee ice cream with a red plastic spoon.
Outside, twilight settled,
planes refueled,
maintenance crews loaded stacks of Flight Chef meals
and shrink wrapped crates.

A throng hustled by dragging their luggage behind them.
All intent on destinations,
gate numbers and boarding times.
Hurrying to stand in line.
Worried about space in the overhead bins
and making their connections.

I glanced at my ticket,
without glasses
the destination could be anywhere,
anytime.
I wondered at the quantum flux,
the probability of
travelers as waves
or particles,
of home on a continuum


Inside my pocket
the phone buzzed like a trapped insect.
I let it out,
saw your name
and smiled.
That smile.
A smile too big and wild for the space.
A mother passing with her little girls in tow
gathered them closer and walked a bit faster.
Centered now, I walked on,
knowing all roads
all directions
lead to my destination.

On the flight, the attendant recommended the lamb.
The chef has a new recipe, he said.
Silly me,
I thought it was only chicken or beef.

Let it be lamb, I said.
And I am sure
my smile took him by surprise.
That smile.
Again.