I am an American airport loiterer,
Starbucks sipper, turning my head
Like a hen at intercom announcements,
Waiting for the names of things in my life,
Wishing absentmindedly for screaming children of my own
So I could get to the front of every line.
In my seat now I feel replete inside, an empty slide
of this good day gone. The conversations we could be having lay still,
our knees locked like barbies,
The seats lean back as if to baptize us
No comments:
Post a Comment