Cab Ride

Katie takes another sip of water to quiet her stomach. We were stuck in traffic all along Canal Street, with plenty of time to admire the tiny red lights strung above us welcoming us to Chinatown in Christmas-like letters, but the stop and go of it all made her a little carsick.

Now, though, we float above the East River, lofted by the Manhattan Bridge over the world, and I stare idly out the window, watching the quiet waves ripple below, when my gaze strays upward and I see four planes on approach to La Guardia, one behind the other, perfectly evenly spaced like discrete diamonds on an invisible chain. 

We both watch them for a few seconds before turning back to the road as the cabbie drives us home.
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One year ago: Thinner
Two years ago: Metta
Three years ago: Apologizing For Existing
Four years ago: Flight of the Hunter
Seven years ago: But I Have To Stand Somewhere Too