If you take away the ticker-tape barriers
and the scattered signs for luggage,
vending machines and airport
senior leadership teams,
all you’ll have is a hall of
travel.


Some seats remain
for the elderly to reside in,
they’re checking holiday books
and pamphlet guides.


Floor space has curdled
into a mess of white-deodorant-
stained teens who want a
good night’s sleep like
the marines across the way.


They, the marines, joke about
the weather, the women, the
watered down beverages from broken
vending machines and ****-cafe-
expensive-coffee down the strip.


De Gaulle is but a roof now:
drains and curving stretches of
eyebrow iron,
not the general France
once relied upon.

There's not enough chocolate
to fill this gap
you've

left

There's not enough tissue
to dry these tears
I've

cried

There's not enough pills
to numb this ache
I'm

feeling

There's not enough sunlight
to warm me
as

you did

There's not enough moonlight
to comfort me
as

you did

There's not enough words
to express how

I

Miss YOU.