Hey, Mari—
     come closer.

Before Barcelona boards
       I’ve got you for a minute
       ’til they call your group.

My keyboard’s a map today.
(Fingers are little streetcars.)

I’ve packed you this pocket of calm:
              zip this message shut
            with your boarding pass…
            reach for it mid-flight.

Mari, Mari…
(two is enough—you know the third)

If your nerves flutter,
              let them.

These little sparrows
      in Las Ramblas trees—
      They land as you do.

Let my voice ride along,
             (left ear.)

I’m trying to wrap this line ’round your shoulders,
    and pull the next one down
    like a scarf warm from the dryer—

    tucked under your chin until the chime goes soft.

Breathe with me, Mari.

In…

Hold…

Out…

You’re safe.
You’re cared for.
You can love the leaving
       and the returning.

Find me in the tiles,
     the crazy bright ones,
     where edges don’t behave. (and that’s the point)

When the cranes of Sagrada look like tuning forks,
         coffee speaks in small jet-black sentences,
         a harbor wind edits your hair without warning—

I’m right here.
Coal’s watching me.

We’ll save your seat,
      keep the place quiet,
         this is your time.

Still writing with both arms.
Still yours, from this side of the ocean.