It’s quiet in Phoenix.
The girl in the stripes
is laughing to herself.
I think I’m in love.
I should go talk to her.
What if she isn’t into me?
I want to try. I should.
I’ve been here for hours
and I just noticed her.
I wonder if she noticed me?
We make eye contact. 
She has a Darth Vader decal
on her Macbook.
I imagine a life with her.
That’s stupid. I’m stupid. 
Because what if?
What if?
What if?
What if?
Because what if nothing.
Because I am nothing.
And then she becomes nothing
as the plane lurches forward.
She was on a different flight.
I should’ve fucking talked to her.
In my window, Phoenix falls away
into the empty black.
Through the other window,
lights twinkle, golden glitter
in spilled ink.
Maybe by Denver I’ll have
forgotten about the girl in the stripes.
The pilot said it would be bumpy
the whole way there.
Seems about right.