The return flight to San Diego is delayed by at least an hour.
Staring into the vast expanse of JFK, brown eyes size up
passengers sitting in Gate 35’s midnight pleather seats.
An elderly couple decked out in matching snowman sweaters next
to a very white college student sporting dreadlocks pulled into a
ponytail, typing away at his macbook next to a gal with straight
platinum golden blond hair. Her eyes are closed, yet she is awake.
Eyes wander on.
Eyes wander back.
The shape of that head…that glossy hair,
etched into his memory from nights long ago,
when his fingers had run through such lovely locks.
Content to play voyeur, he snaps a secret cell phone photo,
knowing that he shall never see her again.