Barf Bag Contemplations on a Long Flight "Home"

forty one thousand and one forty feet
above the land upon which my heart and mind meet
above the street
tracked with divets
she pivots
her flight to the top left
to the far west
to the coast
with the most
to the host shall we toast
this winnipeg rye
at this diner
that serves breakfast all day
and on this bread
we shall spread
this warm packet of marmalade
neon and freckled
with screaming specks of orange zest
like my chest
burnt from the sun
the marshmallow
burnt by the fire
lips dry and jaded
rehydrated
by your kiss
that i already miss
i'm so parched it's pretty
gregariously gritty
i need you to sit me
back and be with me
and kiss me
of course!
what else would we do?
except stand in the parkinglot
and dance to the rythym of cars over there
as the dark sets the air
saturated in her blue evening gown
not complaining, but it's raining
like a broken pepper shaker
cloud's a faker
but i'll take 'er
let's just go back inside
just to hide
from everything that isn't love
we can watch the windshield
and contemplate the rain drops
inconspicuously welling
like the swelling and the tears in my
eyes collecting water
and salt
and reasons i love you
and carrying messages down to my lips
window base
of my face
and it tastes like everything you've ever said
makes my stomach ripple like white rum
drunk straight
up and out of here
face north and turn left
like i left you
but do know i go back
to the mountains
between which your heart got stuck
just your luck
but no fret, not just yet
i shall keep it here safe
and wait
at the gate by the border
that keeps ups apart
like the border i trace round your heart
and mine
for one love we'll be fine
it's just time
we still have the moon
we still have the night
and tonight
this delusion of seperateness dissolves
like sleeping bag seams
and it seems
i'm out of paper?
to write,
just enough room to say good night
and whisper 'i love you'
inside