"Summer Picnic" by Lowell Herrero

You call me from work with
a 4:30 plan: Let's picnic
at the airport; pretend we
have tickets.  I pack, a
silver thermos of strong
coffee and the last slice
of apple pie we made first
day of fall.  You pleated
crust while I peeled.  Baked it
in our chipped blue deep-dish.

Sweatered, in rutted field,
we see dusk past purple.
Landing lights cone a road
for each plane touching down.
Paths pop up when needed.
First Class I say,
as if there were,
aboard flimsy props.

I hold your hand that isn't sugared.  Share
a drink from the silver lid.  Insist
you run the car heater high.  Kiss
cinnamon creases.  Toast
The best part of any trip
is coming home.

Bio: Holly Farris is an Appalachian who has worked as an autopsy assistant, restaurant baker, and beekeeper. Of thirty articles, poems, and stories published to date, her recent vampire micro-fiction appears on a coffee label from Story House in Portland, OR. Holly's first book, To Have and To Hold, has been accepted for publication. In real life, she works as a housing advocate for low-income people.

Contact Holly Farris at hfarris@naxs.com