Blonde, tight skirt, leather vest,

 

Blonde, tight skirt, leather vest,

she knows her privilege and uses it
smiling at the young JetBlue attendant
who mentions nothing about size limits
as he helps her pummel a gigantic
purple duffle into the overhead bin
occupying the space of two bags.
I have the aisle, she the window.
From her body, a powdery scent
like fresh-cut sugar pine. Perhaps I stare.

“Something wrong?” she asks.
“Sorry,” I say. “First time I ever
smelled sawdust on a jet plane.”
“My first husband,” she says as if that explains it.
“I just spent two weeks at his cabin.”
A chatty woman. I soon learn she woke
to the call of loons, had to brake
as a dozen geese held a family meeting
on the road to the airport. She wished
she could stop right there,
paint plein air on Interstate 89.

She’s bringing maple moose lollipops
for the evil stepchildren. “They’re frankly
glad I’m gone,” she says. Now we’re over
Lake Champlain. Destination JFK.
“Goodbye Vermont,” she says to the window.
“I’ve cleaned his cabin, I’ve brought you
his ashes. Stay green and may we all
dwell in peace.”

……

First published in Freshwater
Photo by sumanley on Pixabay