My seat assignment happens to be at the window.  Next to me in the middle, Randy Fuller tells me who he is, after I ask twice.                                                           Sporting a shock of gold against his medium dark skin, he glows with four chains around his neck, silent watches, bracelets, proud rings.  Randy wears one earring and dense silk in browns and tans.

I'm pleased to be wearing raw silk, sage green.  This way I fit in.  Like a gentleman,
he asks me what I'm reading.

From the window seat I watch thermal winds swell.  We float on angel' wings.  Clouds of darkest gray crest higher, sunlight climbing the ladder of clouds.                                                             We hear a rumbling in the plane, and double back to Denver for repairs, giving me more time with Randy.                                      We talk like siblings, his words sweet as flowers just unbending.                               Randy, positioned to gamble with his buddy, invites me to join them.  I decline, spinster that I am.  Jokers, fifty-dollar bills, twenties glide freely when slapped down from on high with hoots of raucous laughter.           Passengers in the back row can hear, their ginger ales spilling on their napkins.               I hesitate to exit the plane.  Head down, cap over his eyes, Randy drops the best farewell:  "See ya', Kathy."  And I will.   

©Copyright 2008 Kathy Kopp