Locked in a passionate embrace,
A fruitless attempt to avoid
The waiting jaws of the plane.
Knowing every curve and plane
Of your body by heart now
As well as the curse of time
Which seems to exalt in
The passage far too quickly,
An accent mark on the days
Which await the next discrete
Meeting of minds and bodies
While we try to attain
That state of grace that
Is seemingly impossible
Or is there some secret code
To avoiding the feeding frenzy
Of planes and long lines
The jawboning with security and agents
In an attempt to make time stand still.

Laura R
4-22-03