wanderlust

Traveling Alone With My Thoughts

Artwork by Useless Treasures

I watched the sunset over C26,
Pink and purple sheeting cold grey
And thought even tarmac can be beautiful
When it frames dim lit tables
Of suitcased passersby
Who smile over to-go boxes
And slip pills with ’50s milkshakes.

That sky wouldn’t sound like the music
Of a generic airport playlist,
Except it should—familiar yet so ineffably
Different, it isn’t a home sky,
And this song’s downbeat drumming
Is nothing like the blue,
Not-pink-anymore-vault
That echoes like good company,
And not traveling alone
With one’s thoughts.

Cement doesn’t mean much when you’re in the up there
And things are heavy, but never firm,
Where gravity works particularly hard around the eyes,
As though the clouds need company after the rain—
A poor substitute for the whirring pinprick drops
Against a shredded color sky;
Neat droplets merely slide
Down cheeks and airplane windows
From this height.

But that’s homecoming:
When time counts by song track
Weeks by that particular album
And being was now
Apart from all before and next and
Landing feels like waking up
From a rainy day nap
Only to discover the sun has already set.

—

Francesca von Krauland is a Miami-born Cuban and Austrian writer. She is a lover of cappuccinos, cats, and conversations that go on for hours.

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