transit

i searched so hard out of the airplane window while we were still close enough to earth, through the swarms of cars on the highway like a pack of wild dogs i looked for your car, the scattered lights blinked like shining eyes.  i pretended i found you. the plastic window was so cold. soon the clouds became a thick, giant blanket and i knew i had failed. i had run out of time. it was me on one side and you on the other. i opened my notebook to write you a letter. the plane hummed soft and long. please, let's never die, i wrote. not ever.