A man sitting next to me in the terminal in a
detached manner said, “I lost my wife at the urinal
farthest from desire.”

Before I could even acknowledge the full stop of
his sentence, the Balloon Vendor of Hope and
Renewed Excitement in Life fastened me to a
nozzle and inflated my inner outlook.

There was no magic in my life, no ghosts, no
telekinesis, no stray god found in a forest making
deals to remain a secret, no hidden worlds behind a
waterfall or in a hole somewhere,

I still haven’t been able to respite myself from time’s
dull jet plane and the many despondencies riding as
mawkish passengers that spew into my world, still
haven’t fully mopped up the spew from my aisles,

but now there is the “Urinal Farthest from Desire”
at the south terminal, Gate B.

—

© 2016 Matthew Mogavero