The Days After You Missed Your Flight

The days after you missed your flight
Were the most beautiful, mysterious,
Threatening: you confessed you were
Saving quarters to buy a constellation,

And once it was yours, you’d
Hang a person from each star,
Blinking at them flirtatiously
As nooses constricted their necks.

I would have criticized you, but
You chided me for sneaking into
McDonald’s late at night
To have mystical revelations,

Squirting stigmata on myself with
Ketchup and growing a beard
To look hot like Jesus. I admitted
I built tiny crosses out of fries

And caught fatty cockroaches
To crucify on their salty planks.
Anyway, the point is: the days after you
Missed your flight are the days

When we pretended very carefully
To fall in love. After long walks,
We came back to the apartment
Where your luggage lined the walls.

Suitcases were filled with dead
Mimes, the weapons of virgins,
The Holy Grail in a shoebox:
You were prepared to take them

All the way across the world and
Bury them in secret places
Known only to rebellious birds
That had flown far from

Flocks that once controlled them.
You had a great journey ahead of you,
A trip that would either kill you or
Make you invaluable to the wrong people,

But in those days after you missed the flight,
You weren’t thinking of the future yet:
You were thinking only of us,
And how we met on a precipice

Not far from the loveliest fatality.
As we fell asleep in the same embrace,
Parts of our minds awoke and
Tried to speak to each other,

But our mouths were closed,
Too tranquil to flutter.
When we awoke, it was time
To catch your flight.