Read a poem by another poet written
on the same day:

Mom's cousin had died in Italy
          perhaps the greatest translator
          of text, ever, and he's dead now.

strange people inspecting the railroad
          trusses for damage—
   could they fly in here if necessary?

Mom points out that Italy is right
over the European leg of the airline
Mom wants to run into the
bathroom and touch up these kids

dateline: real world
some not so good news:
man returns from china to
micromanage the rest of the company.
is that a fair thing to do?
is that really the way a company
is run?
brilliant as he is, his logic
talks him into a corner out of
which he does not have the people
skills to get out of.

and so I have to ask:
          am i sitting  on carryon?
          am i luggage?

saw those guys, i'm more
interested in getting my bag back!