For Sonya, who said the magic words

You ask me, "is there magic in the everyday?"

And I press into your hand the one item that will change our collection of useless junk into the key that gets us out of a miserable situation and say "yes."

Did I learn it from movies, or from books, or from hearing the broadcast on the radio station that beats in my chest that says "make something of nothing"?

Does it matter if it lets us fly away?

You squeeze my hand after we've fit all the pieces together, and my radio skips from station to station, but every broadcast is the same, hope and fear, and a readiness to test our wings.

You nod your readiness, and turn the key.

It no longer matters if it's magic or science. The light of ignition turns your face golden, numinous. By the light of invention anxiety falls away, and I'm brave enough to kiss you as the ship accelerates away from the moment of discovery.