Dear Mountain Hero,
Poem By Hazel Izbitt
I eat Ranch Sauce with my French Fries too. The dusty yellow dotted lines pass swiftly on the road, as the mile-high wind tousles my hair and it's okay. Tollbooth. The terminal exit ramp is in three miles, and I am still intoxicated by your gaze. You planted a heart shape bed of gladiolas. Upside-down. Curbside check-in. Friendly Adieus. After three days I knew your truths, and we never hugged. Bags checked. Ingenue. Moving walkway. Of course you wanted to be a fireman when you grew up. Dogs or cats? Dogs! DUH. Terminal D. You swagger down the leafy lane in your mirrored aviators. You don't look back. I close my eyes. Gate 36 boarding. Thanks for entering my story. I will surely carry you in my suitcase heart.
Expect the unexpected.
Best of luck in all of your endeavors,
Your midwestern ingenue.