6:56 to O’Hare

Driving to Hartford in a slow
relentless drizzle
Seems singularly appropriate.

And the dregs of our last argument
surround us in the silence
Leading to the airport.

Hauling out my bags and then
confronting naked grief
Shatters my control.

Crying silent I avoid
the arms you do not raise,
And walk into the airport.

The ticket counter lady,
pretending not to notice;
Blessed kindness.

And the thought of friends awaited
is suddenly cold comfort
Without you.

M.A. Mohanraj
December 29, 1992