What am I going to do about being away from the New Mexican voices and faces and root arms and bodies and souls that all grow together? How long before I get to hear them and see them and touch them again? So life is like this everywhere, meet beautiful people, fall in love with places, become reunited with family, then leave them, but learn to take them inside.
All the people in the airport tap their feet and hands in rhythm with my prayers and the music from my headphones. All the people in the airport read the exact same newspaper and switch to the next page at the same time. What will I do without the Southwest sun and mountains?
There’s turbulence leaving Albuquerque.