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Terminal 3 - 19 hours to go The company of strangers is confining Elbow to elbow of unsmiling beings Lazy elevators reeking with urgency Somewhere to go - suspended in space Everything here is stained Caramel juice threading down walls Tributaries of tar Mingle with the sweat of traveling Babies in the smoking lounge Hazed and fragmented - Swaddled in cloaks of nicotine Fussing at the absence of oxygen In longing I miss no one - really Instead - I miss the material: my couch my bed my holy space of silent In longing - solitude transforms desire Nothing is what I need - not what I want Perpetually in love with each star in a misunderstanding - again (please place suggestions here) My hat smells strange Laid as a pillow in too many places The monitor advises me to wait more Here - with the babies - in the smoking lounge. Small pink lungs - blissful and unaware Of their parents blind maliciousness (yawn) "Now boarding gate 63" - again |
Additional Notes:
I started this a couple months ago at Heathrow, and left the original draft in a suggestion box there.
The puncuation and free verse I chose on purpose to give the reader a sense of suspension.
Don't you just love airports?
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