this airport was a portal between dimensions

where you and I, with our cheap carry-ons, adrift

float down a sidewalk river to destinations 

suitcases off-roading and bumping as they drift


and in the air I take your hand just to feel you

our fingers laced in between the here and the there

kiss me in this wrangler we’ve tucked ourselves into 

did it lift us higher? that big Denver blue bear?


dusting Utah salt off our airborne hiking boots 

fill them with coral sand, breathe San Fran’s wind chilled smoke 

remember the girl, who thought you said ‘coat’, not ‘coke’?

laugh at the western confusion, our tongues in our roots


they curl just between us, become secret language 

in the back of the van, surrounded by redwoods

old souls gazing down on our dusk blushed hood

morning coffee streams from our wheeled river cottage


when we touch down just north of our hilled horizons 

find my home, your chest, from east to western mountains