debbie

i used to pick her up
at the airport.
she in her flight uniform,
her roll on bag,
black, of course,
at her feet.
black heels.
she'd stand there with
a smile on her face.
shoulders squared,
smelling like a month
of perfumed
sundays. unwearied
by her travels
in the air,
a cat
who swallowed the canary,
or was about to.