Flying over Connecticut, the earth
Begins to move. Like a beacon,
The seatbelt sign lights up,
And in its incandescent glare
The window stutters my ashen portrait,
Shaken from sleep. Forgetting where I am,
I reach beyond the faultline
To the seat beside me, desolate and cold.
And suddenly I feel the plate
Tectonics of our lives begin to separate,
My heart beats harder than the whirr
Of the propellers turning, desperation
Quivers into longing, trembles into a
Richter of desire.
All night the aftertremors shake me,
Shattering my calcite dreams.
My heart traces out its epicenter west,
Beyond San Andreas, to you.