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Improv 1, Week 2

My favorite part of Carolyn Forche's "For the Stranger":

"Wiping ovals of breath from the windows
in order to see ourselves, you touch
the glass tenderly wherever it holds my face.
Days later, you are showing me
photographs of a woman and children
smiling from the windows of your wallet."

Lions Don't Fly Planes

The crack made by our navy blue coach seats allows for
me to stick my tongue out at my future girlfriend,
sick of popping ears and smelling of spearmint, having filled
two barf bags with peanuts and canned juice, stuck every finger
in the ash tray as her mother reads a Time, and tired of kicking my seat
with kickball passion. When we arrive in Minnesota, I may offer her
a spot in my carry on with Floppy, or just give her my uneaten pretzels.

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