Airport Terminal

The terminal is clouded with voices, 

people from every angle, as I step off the plane,

and walk small
to the slow sluggish baggage claim. The escalators creep
up and steadily fall,
and at the end the stairs get to be paired with the floor.
I start to look for him and feet stagger
around the carousel

of luggage, bringing hollow thunder to the stale air. 

My suitcase moves over
to me by itself,

no matching mini bag, and I walk it over to cushioned
seats.
My seat is the only one unfolded, almost like being

alone in a theater. 

Suddenly, the lights on my phone
blaze with music,
a symphony for one. 

Our voices meet in the same room, no longer am I

using this air by myself.

He's finally ahead of me, and the five feet of tiles 

in between us start moving me closer.
I can now share my
symphony, my air, and the sun

comes through the window, as for lightening bugs trapped in a jar.