At the airport we collide,
and like finding your favorite song
you never knew lacked in your aching brain,
we attach and savor it.
Our air dissolves,
our life source replaced.
The last year together
and apart, anxious, melts into the terminal floor.
You excuse your soda glazed jeans,
casualty of a careless child.
Ironic that you're insecure.
For once, when doesn't circle my mind,
or how, helpless, hopeless,
only "at last"
sweetly resounding, reminding
before seven seconds becomes seven days
blissfully lost in the wreckage.
Inside a spin-dry blur I feel
Bodies stare in detached awe,
witness to a beautiful collision,
while I uncover my life in your eyes
and I sigh.