Perhaps I am not who I think–
the one who would wish
to disappear before your eyes.
What I want is the power
to stretch time,
cheat death,
be always beside you,
throw wide the doors
and walk through.

But then, there is the task of planting lilacs
and I recall my 6 year old self
hidden in the stand of sweetness
perched on the metal lid:
LEVITTOWN – the septic tank.
Oblivious and still.

Nine years flying coast to coast,
five hours in limbo each time,
the calm as I settled in my seat,
cabin door closed.
a portal to no time,
the clock turning back:
a book, a pen, a glass.

Teleportation would have stolen
the time beside my mother
as she drove me to countless dance classes
after working two jobs and cooking dinner–
and what of our penniless honeymoon,
driving ourselves across plains into mountains–
silence, music, our own private humor.
And later, kids in the backseat,
what they’ve revealed
as my eyes watched the road.

– Patricia Davis-Muffett