en route

between places, from one embrace
to another, the warmth of her lingering breath
against my neck, a whispered good-bye
that follows me down the rainy street
towards a new destination, home.
I'm not there yet, sandwiched between
an elderly man on the way to visit grandchildren,
a college student on her way home.
we are en route, between, disconnected
but together in a metal box 35,000 feet
above the earth, we look down at clouds,
wondering if it is raining on those we left
behind.