The Second Million Miles

When you were just so little
and riding beside me I said,
If you’re going to play music,
you need to learn to travel,

and because you were such
a rattling blonde box of talk,
I added, Sometimes you need
to learn to travel in the quiet.

And we logged a million miles
together, here and there, there
again, and again we’re together
at Gate 4C, but you leave alone,

cap at a carefully jaunty angle,
weathered leather bag across
your shoulder, mandolin care
at rest on one toe….

You look back, maybe a little,
as you move through the lines
and I do not. The security girl
chats you up in an unknown tongue,

you flash your $5200 smile,
return her banter, scoop your change
and iPod from the x-ray dish,
lift your case strap over your head

and keep walking. One quick wave.
One quick wave, and I lift each
foot, lift each foot, lift each foot,
and drag my tired hoard of songs

back down the roaring corridors,
ride up the elevator, cross the tower,
find the van, pay the price, and try
to learn to travel in the quiet.