The bar in the airport
watching people
                    watching people
the habitual movement
tracing shapes in space
                there are others
        there waiting, fist clenched
hard breathing

          I am those people.
   I was born of habit,
           & some say LOVE.
A circle still enchanting
    after so many go-rounds.

May the gods not let me
  drift into apathy.
    May I find homecoming
       in the center
& act as an example
   not a guide.