The bustle of wheels and shoes across marble
are muted by the high ceilings
of the great Arrival Hall.

Underneath its fluorescent skies
a long back river flows
winding around the headlands
of counters and
disappearing into x-ray caverns.

The smell of suitcases hangs in the air like
morning mist pooling around ankles.
Not quite fading with the passing of day,
but mingling with wafts of fresh coffee
-and jet fuel.

From somewhere in the distance a chapel bell chimes,
announcing that Passengers of Flight AQ284 can
board the plane in ten minutes time.

the Passengers flock to their gate with
the dependency of cattle to the bell
and trickle, single file
through a metal esophagus and into

a Silver Dragon that flies at midnight
taking off from a starlit path
and into the cold dark night
its echoing, parting roar
speaks of farewells and
bright futures
and
distant lands

so very


far



away.

an empty box and
a brimming box are
side by side

they are kept
apart
for sanity's sake

Sixty-eight more minutes to go,
an eternity stretches before me as I
sit
and wait.

This place that welcomes me,
yet condemns who I am;
I have no choice but to
sit
and wait.

I smile at people who
hold no place in my heart
this pretense that drags the minutes while I
sit
and wait.

My mind wanders to places,
I'd rather be than here,
unbound by the obligations that make me
sit
and wait,

and wait

and wait

and wait.

ah, the second hand has reached its peak-
sixty-seven more minutes to go.