The return flight

A Chinese man and a white woman in the airport lobby
In SD, that city by the sea,
On their way to San Jose, like me,
A quarter-size violin at their feet,
Chatting of movies and Suzuki
Recitals, busily checking their Blackberries,
While their sons, about five and three,
The younger watching the older quietly
Playing Nintendo DS; and me –
Across the aisle – they do not see,
A figurant in their biographies.
A dream fulfilled by others, at least,
Gives me hope to keep living.