introspective periscope : peeking inside since Y2K


safe keeping

-after the flight. - zero six one zero pound(like the automated attendant), 2001

i wrote this on the plane. i'm still...with you essentially. my heart never boarded the plane. my soul stayed with you. it will always be with you.

and now, fresh from the yellow legal pad with the blue lines......


i could still feel the haste of

the feel of your lips




with mine in a

semi-final mixing of the

two of our beings as

i walked down that






and boarded the belly

of the monsterous bird

slated to take me away from you.


and the tears came

and it occurred to me then,

so simultaneously

as i clammoured and apologized my way down

the carpeted aisle between

the rows of upholstered reclining tray table seats....

it occurred to me then

why i could never be a flight attendant,

so beautiful sporting slim-hipped frames

mulling busily around me,


with my lack of grace...

but also,

it occurred to me then,

so simultaneously

as i struggled to breathe in a normal gate

how haste had been the way of

our last hour together.

and i felt like your mother:

too worried and too high strung

to notice that it was all going to be okay;

that it had all already been worked out;

that dinner was warm and on the table;

that we'd made it to the gate on time.


but i'm stream of conciousness

as i too often tend to be

when the tears are streaming

so freely down my damp contorted face

for several dozen strangers to see,



clammouring-stammering down a

too narrow aisle to the last row that

i'd chosen:

the one row left with the window.

and i was blinded with the sting of the moment,

with the largeness of the thing

that had swallowed me inside it

and separated me from you.


i watched you then,

from the last row,

from the second to last window

after the kind fragile-framed attendant

helped me to force my bag of unnecessary things

into the space overhead....

after i'd collapsed into the

tackily upholstered reclining tray table seat

and let the

compressed air of the belly of the monster

fill my compressed lungs

in a compressed and complicated

necessary breath.


i watched you.

two panes of glass between us,

you with your thin-frame posture

leaning against the thick clarity;

your slender michaelangelo-beautiful leg

propped up on something and

only adding to your constantly-portrayed

state of laid back laxness and

quiet undestanding;

of goodness and susupense

with the sex appeal of a hollywood star

who know's he's got the girl.




it was all i could do not to sob out loud.


gently streaming;


absently palming

the stone that i'd reached for

wishing there was a way i could know

if you saw me, too....

knowing that realisticly,

you probably couldn't have but

what was that? a wave?

my mind trips and screams for you.

my hands reach for you,

delicatley running fingertips

along plasticy-plexi-glass

as if stroking it could somehow

be your hand




the air was rushing then

in the belly of the shining bird.

the beast that i had loved two days earlier

now the creature i despise tonight.


and i'm spinning-spinning vertigo

a dozen other ways it could have played out:

i could have tried to find those souveniers

that i was bringing home for them.

i could've been more patient

with the cell phone laden middle aged moron

at the security check.

i could've walked away a little slower.

i could've stumbled.


but perfect timing

is so serene

and the procedure went as planned

and we backed away,

the saftey demonstration

mere backdrop concerto

for the production of tears wetting my

fingertips and breasts

through the thin feminine fabric

of presentable clothes.


and i saw you turn back

as you went to walk away

and i clutched that stone in my moist fingertips

so much harder than

i ever squeeze your hand

when we're sailing along

and retirment rates

along the highway,

bumbling along with

my balding darling old man companion

with too much age in his hairline

for the youth in his heart and his eyes...

i know you're only twenty seven and

i know you know i love you.....

and i wanted so badly for you

to feel that squeeze as we

pulled away from the







the beast roaring and groaning

its metallic growl....


and we took off into a double time zone

purple sunday sunset,

the bird sailing dimming shadows

along the tennessee ground below

and i cant stop singing joni's line

because its the only thing that makes sense:

...'never should have got on this flight tonight'...


but the bird,

he's swallowed me whole

and there is no turning back or escape at

thirty five thousand feet

and my soul is reaching

into the nothingness of strangers

wanting desperately to find you near

and its tearing out my heart to try to rationalize

with myself...

getting hard to find the words to

explain to myself that

i'm leaving you there behind.


and the eastern standard time zone

draws me into her folds again

and i smile my time travel smile

unstuck in time and

dwelling in years to come

spent with you

and considering the love

with which you've stroked my soul.


but i can still feel you on my lips

the tangled hasty perfect joining

of our two beings,

our lips mixing well with each other...

and its been an hour since the

bird swallowed me whole and stole me from you

and though it may feel like i'm gone for you completely,

in the purple of our sunday seven-o-five parting,

i've left a piece behind:

i've left a piece with you for safe keeping.


.what came before. - .what happened next.

a diamond at the bottom of the drain - 20 october 2017
baseball season to football season, abbreviated - 25 september 2017
the doodles - 11 july 2017
at arm's length - 4 july 2017
like a sea-mammal needs a bicycle - 30 may 2017

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