waiting
the sour-sick smell of another's
breath accumulates
in the yaw of a 747
travelling miles unmeasured
by feet heights unflown
by human arms the lights blinker
on the fans blow the warnings
signal blank-faced
attendants at this endless
party while dawn
fingers the elbow resting
on the window
cloud milk condenses
over the country my mother
now sees after gaining wrinkles
grey hair a new air
doors open to tropical
fruits sly pickpocketing
hands the constant press
of smog in her throat
welcoming her like she's
never been away
