Daddy waited
 
 in the dead-end
 
 circle, reaching
 
 out for me.
 
 I couldn’t
 
 find his embrace
 
 find his answers
 
 find his excuse for tears.
 
 Faster. Faster.
 
 He’d waited too
 
 many years for
 
 me to come looking.
 
 Hadn’t he? I
 
 needed to see
 
 needed to know
 
 needed a lot more.
 
 Hot Landing
 
 Hot runway.
 
 Hot brakes.
 
 Hot desert sand
 
 outside the window,
 
 wind-sculpted crystalline
 
 slivers, reflecting a new
 
 summer’s sun.
 
 Good-bye, young lady.
 
 Good-bye, Albert.
 
 Good-bye, toupee.
 
 Good-bye, dentures.
 
 Good-bye, in-flight
 
 glimpses of a soul,