LMK when ur coming out
my brother, John, types, fifteen minutes later.
About to grab my bag & deplane as they say, I say, as in speak into my phone as my phone types the words for me. My hands are full.
From the Old French “de plane,” I add. Meaning “of the plane.”
As in the Great Plains, as in Little House on the Prairie, as in Michael Landon, as in Bonanza, as in the Wild West (as a proper noun), as in horses, cowboys, a saddle, as in manifest destiny or deliverance, as in the Pony Express (another proper noun), as in more modern ways of communication, as in Rocko’s Modern Life, as in Modern Apizza, made famous vis-à-vis archrival Pepe’s in New Haven, as in old-school or the classics, as in no frills or original, as in plain pizza. . .
Walking to arrivals now, I type.
As in pick-up or delivery, as in take out—
Go down to baggage claim n then walk out, John types back. As in walk out meaning to walk out. From the english meaning to walk out.
As in don’t pay the bill, I return. See also: walk out on a bad date, bad film, bad marriage, etc.
See you there, another message refreshes in my inbox. All best.
I just got picked up, I text Giancarlo. See also: prostitution, aforementioned Chinese takeout, a TV series pilot, etc.
My brother’s not so good at this game, I think, without typing anything.
But at least he’s playing.
My brother hardly stops
to pick me up at DOOR 1 of Arrivals & we speed on or rather he speeds on me in the passenger seat forever a passenger scrolling through my Facebook & Instagram newsfeeds with some sort of speed as the song motors on & my brother’s Audi motors on the dial reaching 70 then 85 on the NJ Turnpike back in a New Jersey night that smells of macaroni & cheese (John lowers the pulsing music so I can repeat my question: “Does it smell like macaroni & cheese to you too?”) & sewage waste plastic but also possibility as in hope faith utopic landscapes or just space to move the reason my parents moved here from Brooklyn & North Bergen respectively & in the first place but also probably the possibility that someone somewhere has shit themselves or been skunk sprayed or bathed in rust & vapor or even the possibility we’ll either get pulled over or die via horrible three-car crash before I get a chance to write this down or write this in but not before the ten o’clock news (it’s 9:45)—This is so great! Giancarlo’s text beaming back at me the way a good night drive can make you feel DJ Tiesto now simply known as “Tiesto” as Wikipedia asserts when I Google during intermittent interjections from a podcast jockey sounding vaguely German whom I later learn is Dutch & I miss that feeling like I miss a lot of things or at least a handful now that I live in Brooklyn again because you just can’t drive your car like this on Atlantic Avenue toward the Brooklyn Bridge or at least you can’t be expected to survive sans speeding ticket or unrecognizable autopsy your body & mine floating in the purple black of a cracked windshield or submerged at the very bottom desperation hope possibility all these things in a single drive with multiple songs at your disposal the wind in my face seldom a street light over dividers trees for miles & the night which is always endless,