Detroit, Airport

I am in Detroit and have not slept in a day
It is the first snow of their year and I am thinking about the last words my grandfather said to me
That I cannot remember

Here there is woman with a gentle face and humble watch
Reading a book, hard white heavy cover, called “Husband’s Secret”, with a blood design lettering
Across is a girl with black boots and black skin drinking lemonade
while the ladies make their announcements in Japanese

The snow is coming, not down, more across, more like it would in a blender
But not a violent blender, just one that blends air like spirits, or concepts, not really a physical thing
Just things meeting, yeah
That’s what the snow looks like coming down at the airplanes

There is someone and everyone too eager to get on the plane
They are in the wrong line
Asking questions of the Japanese lady. She is calm and nice
I like her but don’t really want to be friends with her, but hope her life is very good

There is also a very serious woman with a constantly suspicious face, holding her lips together and extending her neck to the left, the right, up and to the side, now sitting where the black girl with the black boots was, they move quick here in Detroit

She is looking everywhere like as if she was writing a poem
Her makeup is very deliberate

Now, a curious – same face as the poem lady – marvelous young baby girl and her mother, dressed in warm colors and clothes, pink pants and a knit hat for the girl, scarves and boots for the mother, have just sat across from me
They are going to visit someone special in Mexico City

The lady is talking Japanese again
An old man in a wheelchair is arriving with a backpack, pushed by a young man with a credential around his neck. What happens when they lose those? I bet he has left it at home before. Does he have a backup? Does homeland security know bout that? They just emptied a bag of a man in a cowboy hat looking for a metal pen when I was in Seattle last night.
The young man is asking the old man how his trip was.
There is no response.

The suspicious woman looks overwhelmed, like she has lost control of her poem
The lady with the young baby has a husband
He just walked over and kissed her forehead
They are speaking Spanish, I kind of suspected that

I look longer at them all and realize maybe I am still capable of love

We are trying, at least us here, the best we know how to
A counselor in AA told me that about someone that hurt me a lot once, that maybe he was just doing the best he knew how to. He was right. I love that person again. I think I love all these people again.