I'm A Pixie

Newark Liberty Airport, July 2025

While waiting to board my flight, I had a glass of wine.

Across the lounge, a little blond boy on his father's lap

 Stared at me. Not exactly at me, but as if he saw my aura.

I loved the kid, his mussed hair, glittering summery sneakers.

Once, I was small like him, used to stare audaciously at strangers.

I noticed a question floating in his eyes;

Then, I blew him a kiss in the air, and waved.

Slipping out of his father's hands he came to me

And pointed at my purple lock: cn' I touch?

Not my black hair, not my dark complexion, eyes,

Not my red and white boots, the red bra.

Just the purple lock: cn' I touch?

I took his palm and guided it to my hair, smiling at him.

He touched the purple lock and smiled back, a tear in his eye

And I knew it meant the world for him.

Is it real? Are you real? Are you a pixie?

At that moment I wished I were unreal. All I wanted was

To be a magical pixie in one little boy's dream, fulfill his desires;

Answer all the questions that swam in his green eyes.