FRESH AIR

What if you were so moved

by the movie you just saw

that you channeled Terry Gross

as you left the theater

and asked the stranger next to you:

Why did you choose to see 

this film and not another today?

Did it make you remember your life

and how you’ve been broken

and how you came to be healed again?

Whatever provoked you to wear

rainbow-colored spandex in public?

Does the name of your dog sweeten your day?

Was your son promoted this week and were you proud?

What makes a crime a crime?

Where are you headed now?

 for a drink, across a bridge, into a fog,

or to an orphanage in your mind?

Do you know where you’re going?

Are you a tourist or a traveler?

The film made you curious,

made you want to interview

each and every by-stander

about their deepest desire,

so strangers became less strange

and humanity became more human.

You want your questions to take you,

without censorship or any hesitation,

into the magic,

into the mystery,

into the grand tour of life.

You want to know your brothers

and sisters of the world

in all their colors and complexity.

You want to peel back the layers

of the living and see there is

a beating heart inside.

You want to believe that trust

is not a nonsense song

with lyrics like Semolina pilchard

but is full of hidden anthems

and the trill of a high-pitched horn

and a singing satellite.

If you actually had these conversations

with strangers in public places

then maybe you could leave

whatever movie you were just in,

step into a November night,

and really breath the outside air, 

the fresh air, like a gratitude 

that fills the lungs and life

with all that’s needed: love.