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Carlo C Gomez Aug 21
precious metal detector
of tourism,
as in a dream,
such device has the power
to make one nostalgic for places
either never visited
or nonexistent.

this strange museum exhibits
sometimes airplanes,
always mortality salience,
and the impossibly probable idea

that travel can change
your sense of time,
so you don't really mind
if things slip away,
or alter in some disenchanted way.

dark blue Jan 19
mousy girl, sitting in the corner, of an american airlines’ lounge

staring out a window, watching it snow

waiting for a flight from frankfurt to dallas

so cute, so demure, how is a boy to resist you

long shiny hair, over sized sweats, black leggings, white keds

sitting crossed, over one leg, slightly bouncing nervously

occasionally catching my eye, then glancing away

are you flirting or just curious, i wish i knew

how do i approach you, what do i say

am i of interest or am i passe

do you know, you’re playing the part, of a little

do you need a daddy, someone to hold, protect you

make you feel special, loved, and cared for

cuddled, kept warm

kissed and touched, everywhere
january 9, 2022
Strange how
my feet won't touch
the ground.
Strange how
my bags are packed
with sadness.

Plight is
my fellow passenger
to Osaka sun,
or Artic chill,
or some volcanic
love nest.

Strange how
my jet-setting eyes,
they see paradise only
on satellite tv,
yet they see the once
beautiful people
and all their utter dismay,
as they pass through
the metal detectors.

So strange
that I can hear
their strife
their suffering
well above
the engine's roar.

Bea Aug 2020
My scarfaced TSA prince
I see you on imvu and
I just want you
As we talk my
Body aches for you
My heart aches for when we can work
And be together
I pine for your presence
Your love
And touch
Bea Aug 2020
The way that you carry yourself
In that CATSA uniform
I see my scarfaced love
Checking passengers for weapons
Oh how I await his touch
Oh how I await is kisses
Then he takes me aside
My dreams come true
I get to feel his touch
Amanda Hawkins May 2020
little by little you’ll come to  understand
it takes more than a destination to call it fate
almost missed my flight mistaking the gate
thought I’d see you coming
were you late?
love could’ve been the first destination
but you never came
Ritz Writes May 2020
The 4 am drive to the airport
Sealed with melancholy and unbarring silence.
Sweaty hands interlocked;
Afraid to let go.
For two hours of staying wide awake wasn't enough to absorb the repercussion we would soon be battling with.
And the new faces are just a mirage, collected stories and memories still imprinted in closed notes; the counted days of our momentary bliss.
The wait never felt like a burden, rather worth the wait to enjoy our last bite of meal.
Tight hugs and kisses, as I walked through the door with my bags and suitcases,
Never thought one day, that was the final draft of our story for five years back.
"No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories." ~ Haruki Murakami ❀
hal Mar 2020
He sits like he owns the place,
Walks like he’s already won the race.
Yet casually.

Grey coat draped over his sure shoulders,
Moves quick and slick unlike boulders.
Yet casually.

The black bag sits alone,
As he waits observing on his phone.
Yet casually.

He catches a glimpse and chuckles a laugh.
I turn away his face only half.
Yet casually.

He knows something that I don’t.
Pay close attention but I know that you won’t.
Yet, undetected.
K Balachandran Mar 2020
Life, a brief sojourn,
In an unknown airport lobby,
Between an arrival and departure.
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