I scratch her schedule on the back of envelopes;
San Francisco, San Diego, Newark, Dallas, and Portland.
She calls while she unpacks, or packs while calling;
And calls from busses, or rails, or terminals, or restaurants.
… sometimes she does not call.
“Will call later,” we say, but talk is cheap.
“How good of you to call,” I say, and text ILU and TTYL
C U Later she texts and I say K,
But instead I draft another poem.
Instead I write the day away.
Instead she flies from place to place.
… and I worry she will be alone.