My airplane pillow is my "burlap bag with sleeves," dull brown except for flecks of egg stirred into fried potatoes. Comfortable like our breakfast that took all morning and left syrup from your tongue behind my ear. Irregular stitching, coarse as bran, trapped humid air and sand from last night's walk where you pressed me into the beach. Now I have you in this public blanket, the smells, the sand, and a receipt for Nestea, Kodak film, and jelly beans that the gulls ate while we waded Michael Stevens enjoys hiking, swimming, and traveling. He obtained his BS in botany at BYU, and this fall will mark his second year in graduate school at the University of Wisconsin at Madison. He spent his summer doing fieldwork at Yellowstone National Park.