Flight Pattern

There's been a shift.

i am tossing

two pairs of socks into the carry-on’s craw

in advance of spanning   

coasts in a single afternoon,

butt on airplane mode

going 500 MPH to SFO,

EST to PST, where

my sister and i

in our mid-size toyota corolla

or similar

will find ourselves dreamstate driving down 101.       

the stone of separation dread is

wrapped in thick gauze, a distant ocean;

instead i think:

all right.

nervous nellie has given up

waiting for lightning to strike,

and is carefully folding her sweater.    

she/i am not feeling myself at all.

i dare to hope that after a lifetime,  

i am finally clear for takeoff.