A Chance to Decide

A woman sitting across from me
flight from Seattle, I couldn’t see
wearing masks our faces obscured
an old movie where features are blurred,

A propeller plane in black and white
projecting what we do at night
in those black and white hotels
with lingering moth-ball smells,

That was ninety years in the past
the world then, that could never last
between the wars, between flights
eating larger and larger bites,

Let’s travel to Paris, let’s travel to Spain
let’s make love in warm summer rain
a dollar in the Way-Back Machine
not analyze what it might mean,

We exit the flight and go our own ways
perhaps meet one of these days
in fact or fiction, or a mix of the two
a chance to decide what we might do …