Nonstop flight to St. Louis,

Taking quick glances at you

As you stroll by.

Already I have bothered you

For more peanuts.

Maybe I'll ask you for a refill

Of my soda,

Maybe for a number and a night

And candle-light dinner.

But what are my chances

In this encounter of coincidence?

What I am but one of a hundred

Or so you've seen,

A face among faces,

Someone to remember briefly then forget,

No one of consequence?

Why do I let myself be

Taken in by silly fantasies:

Thoughts of you holding me,

Thoughts of opening my heart before you,

Like a flower blooming in the rain?

Perhaps one out of a hundred or so

Is better than none.

p.s.: Thanks for the peanuts.

*Author note: Written on a napkin during a flight in 2001 on my way to visit a friend. I left this poem behind for the beautiful flight attendant to find. Then I walked away.*