Poetry Thursday: Magic

airport terminal interior looking very space-age

I used to wish
I could blink my way
to happiness
like Samantha on Bewitched

making things appear
or disappear
at will,
myself included.

Okay, I still do.

Standing in line
after ever-lovin' line
at LAX,
I transport myself
in my thoughts
to my destination

without baggage
or more than the moment
it takes to twitch my nose.

If I am lucky
something shows up
to remind me
of how much magic
there is in airports
the terrazzo underfoot
the screens, both silent and blaring
the overpriced water in plastic
the baggage carousels
the light through the glass
the air, cooled or heated
the thousands of stories being carried
from one point of the globe
to another,

almost instantaneously
to someone who considered herself lucky
to secure a berth
on a boat
bound for land
she had not even seen on a map.

If I am lucky.

And these days,
I almost always am...


Image by U-g-g-B-o-y-(-Photograph-World-Sense-) via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.