Boarding Pass

A blank stare at the document clenched in my hand,
By then I was bound to a faraway land.

Futility

A pretty figure staring
out her third-story window,
dreaming
as her pensive eyes glance
below and away, not knowing
that one window over
I dream of her.

Miles Away

You live three thousand miles away
I dream of you, by night by day
I wonder if you listen east
to hear my whisper in the winds
and every time the sun rescinds
behind a sheet of snow and sleet
I feel my heart race forth and beat
for fear of losing you.
But there isn't snow in L.A.
As I imagine your sweet voice say
from the passenger seat (as you fall asleep)
you must have listened east.

Hookah Haze

It rises with the hopes of Yesterday's dream
weaving through the Sun's midday gleam.
It sinks under harsh reality's gaze
for one cannot shape this mystic haze.
It dances with the sun, settles with the dark
and eases away with each gentle bark.
Until the next round of breaths implore
ever-wishing for just a bit more.

LAX

Gateway to the Pacific:
a sprawling web of asphalt stitched
with glowing red and blue and green,
hundreds of thousands of people some
with baggage some without
arriving on airplanes the size of
monuments like the steel carousels
beyond immigration lines and stamps,
a haven for tired travelers from
places far across the sea, all flights
incoming planes circle
above waiting to touch down
while cars crawl along painfully
honking and weaving and loading
the sweet smell of smog and jet fuel
the familiar sound of cars whizzing by
on highways six lanes wide
and roaring jet engines
and scampering feet
the endless beat of LAX.