In the terminal she sleeps on my shoulder, hair falling forward, mouth all askew. Fluorescent announcments beat their wings overhead: “Passengers missing, we’re looking for you.” And she dreams through the noise, her weight against me, hair pressed into the corduroy grooves.
Maybe it means nothing, maybe it means nothing, maybe it means nothing, but I’m afraid to move.
“Our chaperone for the evening is Jimmy Kimmel. … Jimmy got his start on the ‘Man Show.’ In Washington, that is what we call a congressional hearing on contraception.”— Barack Obama, The White House Correspondence Dinner (via ragingserenity)