The bustle of wheels and shoes across marble
are muted by the high ceilings
of the great Arrival Hall.

Underneath its fluorescent skies
a long back river flows
winding around the headlands
of counters and
disappearing into x-ray caverns.

The smell of suitcases hangs in the air like
morning mist pooling around ankles.
Not quite fading with the passing of day,
but mingling with wafts of fresh coffee
-and jet fuel.

From somewhere in the distance a chapel bell chimes,
announcing that Passengers of Flight AQ284 can
board the plane in ten minutes time.

the Passengers flock to their gate with
the dependency of cattle to the bell
and trickle, single file
through a metal esophagus and into

a Silver Dragon that flies at midnight
taking off from a starlit path
and into the cold dark night
its echoing, parting roar
speaks of farewells and
bright futures
and
distant lands

so very


far



away.

sometimes
                                                       ­                         my
                                     ­ brain
                       doesn’t
                                                       ­     work

right
                                                ­                               and

                             my

                                              thoughts

     ­                                         scatter

               ­                                                    like
                               beads

                                     spilled
                               on
                                                              ­                 tile

floor

From the cold, dank room; musty smells emanate,
The cold eye freezes and turns over in the frost,
Catch a star, falling far, falling free,
Shining for everyone; not just me
Trying to make sense of this entropy disorder,
Wet cat nose leather finds protection
from drying up in the hot weather,
A life? Maybe. Omniscient? No.
Turn away and find the inspiration
amongst the perspiration –
insurance against the inevitable alienation
Celebrate with the nation. All of them?  
Two colours, eye-gas, brain-grass, not in that shirt, Scott!
The crepuscular gloaming gives way,
Orange light now dominates the night,
keeping away the hurt and fright.
Drifting now, lost but not lonely. If only.
Size up the coffin and make marks
on the wall to measure how tall
Tear it down, sweep up the pieces and throw them away.
All will be revealed, my friend.
Perhaps.
One day.