Flight to New York
Frankie was her name she said. It was a nickname for Francine. I decided, for once, not to pretend to be someone else. We had met on a flight to New York. I thought I was a big shot, reading the New Yorker on a flight to New York. She just laughed at me.
Oh Frankie. The way you sang along with your headphones made me hear Pearl Jam's "Jeremy" a whole different way. I couldn't believe you said the F-word like you did. I was shocked and uncomfortable. But then, we were on a flight to New York, and if anybody could hear you over the rumble of the engine, they were most likely already braced for the ubiquitous rudeness of the city.
You've made me feel that way so many times since. But I think that's what I love about you. Frankie, come back. Take the red-eye flight to New York and let's be in love again. We're already half way there.