Kristen Lindquist
Strangers on a Plane
On the flight to Savannah, a guy across the aisle and one row up has a big hardcover journal open in his lap. He writes for a while, then flips back to read through pages covered with sketches and dense blocks of hand-writing. He has the vibe of an artist: something about his long lean fingers, silver wrist cuff, and the thread-bare wool sweater he’s wearing. At one point I look over and, without trying or intending to, find I’m able to read what’s written at the top of the left-hand page: Dear Lou, Our talk on Monday did not go as planned… His hand and arm cover the rest of the page. For the remainder of the flight, while he pores over his own journal as intently as my husband reads a novel next to me, I wonder about Lou and what happened. As we debark the plane, he picks up a guitar case from the pile of gate-checked luggage. Later we see him at the gate for a flight to Nashville. A songwriter, perhaps, with a journal full of lyrics?
small talk our driver mentions graves under runway ten
About the Author
Kristen Lindquist is a frequent book reviewer for Frogpond and other journals, as well as coordinator for the Haiku Foundation’s Touchstone Award for Haibun. Her books include island (2023, Red Moon Press) and It Always Comes Back, winner of the 2020 Snapshot Press eChapbook Award. You can read her daily haiku blog at www.kristenlindquist.com/blog. She lives in Midcoast Maine.