What of her, bags packed and then unpacked later on
when they denied you of entry. You did not make it past
the deadline, or before it was purely yourself necessary to
incidence. You intersect, moor yourself to the center
of transactions – the force and shape of it, your tired image
sauntering past weathered windows.  The sound of tickets
being torn caused you trembling – doors held for body,
    hinges a hand-signal, error communicating through neglect
you didn’t listen to him, because he did not tell you
of its necessity. You were a day late as many others are,

almost a bullet hitting,
a crash postponed,
death by biting the barrel.
      Two lovers hinting at each other through open windows,
  hands are doves waving, parting the evening, almost this
  paled technique of fate to put you in a place you do not want.

But what to realize after, when all of this is nothing but
a disorder. They cleared the throat and gave you something
to remember: denied. Loose without a threat, even.
   A sensitivity so endless felt through volumes of people
  walking past metal detectors with smiles plastered, framed,
  crawling deep inside the mouth of it. The idea of   towards

a destination that is now far within reach, beyond the order
of things. You are one brash mistake away from assault.
That promise of a waiting bed in another country. Let alone,
the taste of the land burning what leftover Sun there is in the mouth,
  made you lose sight of, and now it is raining all over the city
  without umbrellas.