wishing on final destinations

from the airport, i call
even though i know he’s in arizona
waiting for his own flight home.
into the answering machine
i describe the way the carpet
makes me feel:
resplendent with sea sickness
and the propensity to run at full speed
the other morning
you said i smelled of cinnamon rolls –
face fully immersed in my hair.
i hope you never change.
they’re calling my row
and i trail off
hang-up without knowing for sure
what i’ve said
if i’ve said goodbye
instead of getting in line
i rush to the ladies room
and throw-up until final boarding call
wondering how i’m ever going to get where i’m going.