Perfect strangers
read our writings
seated on runways
waiting for takeoffs
and landings
suffering through
screeching wheels
they look for connections
to their childhood
marble collections
still rolling around
the gaps in their spirits
they grow up with us
as if they remember when
we first heard Vivaldi’s
Four Seasons convinced
the leaves outside
were moving in unison
with every beat
they choose to cry with us
as we watch our daughters
juggle their man-sized
disappointments
like medicine-balls
they check our boarding passes
see our stains of red-hot sauce
and spent champagne
they decide if they have space
for us to linger
in their next issue
in the precious room
reserved for their best friends
Susan Shea is a retired school psychologist. Her poems have been published in or are forthcoming in ONE ART: a journal of poetry, Catamaran, Argyle Literary Magazine, Burningword, Peatsmoke, Passager, Folio, Ekstasis and others. Three of her poems have been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, and one for Best of the Net.