Airport shops are something peculiar
selling everything useless
except books and this little pen that fits in my pocket!
Only in my boy jeans of course,
but would you know the airport
bookshop doesn’t even sell poetry?
As if the only ones cultured enough to read it
are those in the city who are
smart enough to never leave.
Or maybe they know that poets
spent the last of their money on the flight ticket
and can’t afford to buy from airport shops anyway.