A bloody mary breakfast
  poured _ten minutes_ before descent
  turbulence like a rollercoaster,

  and a landing that woke even the deepest dreamers.

“Not-a-crash,”
     the pilot didn’t say—

     though landing gear protests begged to differ.

Sure made for a quick de-planing!

Marta to Midtown.

Two-minute Uber wait,
    a sweat-soaked shirt—

    Atlanta’s sticky welcome embrace.

Rolling into the office
        with a suitcase and a smile,

        "smash landing"-fueled adrenaline still buzzing.

A wall of meetings,
  and the smiling endurance
  of mandatory exec-time,

  all handled with a well-practiced shrug.

It’s fine.

All of it’s fine.

Every shaky mile,
      southern sigh,
      second closer—

'Cause tonight,
       at the end of this day,
       I land for real,
         soft and sure…

         in the only place
         worth the ride:

         Mari’s hug.