Going, going, gone.

I want to go somewhere.

Fly over an ocean.

Be scared that I might crash

and splatter into

a billion pieces

across a rocky mountain range.

I want my hands

to smell like unfamiliar

airplane soap.

I want a brick

of airplane food

to thump in my stomach.

I want to eat

that processed dessert

even though

I'm already full.

I want my ears to itch

under headphones

while my eyes

twitch at a movie

that I never wanted to see

...twice.

Instead we'll sail through the desert, to Tucson, to see Neil Hamburger . And that ain't so bad.