The trip complete there’s nothing left
Save for the souvineirs.
It was a blast, a welcome rest
I’ll think of it for years.
But here I am at LAX
No dream, no cardigan.
I’ll have to wait a hundred years
Just to lift off again.
Don’t get me wrong the airport’s nice,
The smell is odorless?
The chairs, the chairs, Oh god, the chairs:
The source of my unrest.
I’ll sit and sit and try and sleep
but always: no avail.
The strangers stare, don’t offer help
They watch me as I flail.
The pillow doesn’t offer rest
The armrest pokes me, merciless
My mind white-hot and furious
Just calm down.
Relax your self.
It will all be over soon.
LAYOVER
Denied: my only boon.
Jan 10, 2012
Jan 10, 2012 at 6:48 PM UTC
The trip complete there’s nothing left
Save for the souvineirs.
It was a blast, a welcome rest
I’ll think of it for years.
But here I am at LAX
No dream, no cardigan.
I’ll have to wait a hundred years
Just to lift off again.
Don’t get me wrong the airport’s nice,
The smell is odorless?
The chairs, the chairs, Oh god, the chairs:
The source of my unrest.
I’ll sit and sit and try and sleep
but always: no avail.
The strangers stare, don’t offer help
They watch me as I flail.
The pillow doesn’t offer rest
The armrest pokes me, merciless
My mind white-hot and furious
Just calm down.
Relax your self.
It will all be over soon.
LAYOVER
Denied: my only boon.
Request permission to use this poem