December 2000
The loneliness returned as quickly as it departed. It swept over me like the snow that blanketed Chicago two days ago. Only time would diminish this burden (and the determination to fill the void in my life). Why does flying fill me with such inescapable sadness? The gentleman from Idaho sitting next to me on the way to Salt Lake City awakened romantic yearnings of the imagined West of yesteryear. You know what I’m talking about - the snow swept mountains and the flowered plains all unspoiled by man’s presence and so far removed from the problems of our reality? The girl in front of me pierced my heart with a blade of lust. Her flawless complexion, her softly defined profile, her lush flowing hair, and her abstract desires stung me with a primeval longing to touch, caress and kiss. But in her eyes was a void as dark as her leather jacket and as distant as the ground beneath us. Now I am on the last leg of my lonely journey home. At last! But it is not over - not the journey, not the work, not even the yearning. The other day, when it was snowing in Chicago, I sat outside the downtown post office watching the snow from the warmth of my car. ( Even the city is quiet when the snow is falling.) Inside of me was the din of techno music churning from the speakers. The poetry of the moment did not escape me.
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