Mountain air

As the remnants of a laugh
echo in conversation’s gap,
You recall yourself again.
Cast out the impostor beneath your skin.

For so long –– too long ––
you did not recgonize the stranger,
blurry-eyed and red-rimmed,
who measured you with cold eyes
in the steam of a hot shower
and accusing florescent light.

But these last few days,
these thousands of miles,
time carved from a rigid schedule,
have restored the light you’ve been craving––
to your laugh, to your step, to your eyes.

Perhaps running hard to a place
where you could reinvent yourself
was the easiest way to return
to the person you recognize.

Then, with slanted shoulder and smile
he turns his broad frame your way,
breaks your thoughts, and fills the gap with,
“The mountain air must agree with you.”



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