Jet home from Arizona on Pacific time:
Three hours later than New York.
Drive 2 hours at 2AM in black desert,
reflectors lighting the 75 mph road.
Thermometer reads 112 degrees at high noon; then 59 in the dark.
Creep through security in Phoenix for 2 more hours
learning to speak Swahili before breakfast.
Three hours to touch down in Chicago sharing cramped space with Southwest Airlines.
Whiz through Midway Airport to the Gate for the plane for Albany.
Crowds surge to seat in front.
Knees cramped; turbulence halts the drink dispensing.
Fasten your seat belt.
Take time to squeeze through to get to the forward head.
Break the sound barrier in yet another jet ’til touchdown in Albany.
Tote bags to car. Pay parking fee.
Drive one hour home.
Unpack again.
New York time:8:50PM
Pacific time: 5:50PM
My body cells collapse.
They’ve been catapulted, coalesced, crimped and crashed with space, seconds and travel directives.
My survival skills have been tweaked again.

3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Catherine Johnson
    Jun 18, 2013 @ 09:42:46

    Oh my goodness, Jeanne where’s a hammock? Super poem.


  2. Violet Nesdoly
    Jun 22, 2013 @ 12:33:38

    After a little trip myself, where I went the other way – Pacific time to Ontario time and back to Pacific time – you have my sympathies!


  3. jmpoland21van
    Jun 23, 2013 @ 09:19:49

    Aha! Violet!
    You went to that conference where I was able to garnish so many insightful notes.
    Thank you.


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