Weaving Into Time
We depart St. Louis at 1:58, on a Thursday afternoon,
Fly to Philadelphia, barely make our plane change,
Take off at 6:10, and arrive at 8:20, Friday morning, in Rome,
Seven hours ahead of who we were, at home,
So exuberant that even jet lag can't catch up with us.
How curious it feels to soar forward in time,
Yet that's precisely the magical feat we've performed,
Stitching our psyches' strands of excitement
Into a seamless weave of the unbelievable,
On which we'll float, for the next two weeks, in Italy.
Now, we begin the slightly dizzying business
Of convincing nearly twenty-four hours of missed sleep
That we need but the three we stole in flight,
To power our first steps from the hotel, on Via Lombardia,
By the Muro Torto, Borghese Gardens, into the Città Eterna.
08/07/10
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