going through old voicemails
and I found a few from you.
it's weird to hear your voice
like a time machine
out of the ether of my phone speaker.
I wonder if you've saved voicemails
or shirts I gave you
or any of the books I not-so-secretly sent.
travel always makes me nostalgic
and this is only adding to it;
I want to call you yet I cannot.
but I am happy I have these
reminders as proof of existence
as I read Mary Oliver poems in the aisle seat.
so I put on Switzerland
because I am a sadist
and embrace the sadness as the plane takes off.