Could be spiritually expensive.

Could tax the interior organs.

Could bring on the blue polyester-shirted customs

Agents with their interesting eyebrows.



But neither can I forget.

In that vast airport of the mind.

Where everyone hurries or waits.

In the Departures and Arrivals lounge.

That shorthand of luxury, exchanging time zones.




Still, can hardly forget.

That rare emphasis you used.

Speaking my name into concrete fact.

As if it were early morning.

           Or Sunday night's dream.



Part illegal.

One-fourths inevitability.

                       One-thirds afternoon lightning.





You occasion.

Turn after turn after turn.

And may we face one another.

           And finally own that place.

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