"attendants" poems
Dear soulmate
No we haven't met
At least not yet
For all I know you could be a princess,
with a golden tiara and attendants
Or the daughter of a peasant,
uncouth and ill-bred in the sight others, but to me, nothing short of pleasant
No we haven't met
At least not yet
Dear soulmate
Last night I dreamt of you again,
a thousand dragons for you I had slain
On my heart you placed your hand,
beaming with joy, oh my fair lady was I glad!
Oh my fair lady was I glad!,
when to the beating of our hearts all night we danced
Fell on our backs and at the stars we gazed,
Oh! their resemblance to your eyes left me amazed
No, we haven't met
At least not yet
Dear soulmate
Beautiful becomes meaningless for it cannot describe you
Perfect ceases to exist for it fails to define you
The universe must have been the one that birthed you
Or an angel from heaven must have sent you
From porcelain clay God must have made you
With his own breathe, life, must have gave you
In my dreams I stare in your eyes
In your eyes I witness the sun rise
As the sun sets I picture you walking down the aisle
Oh daughter of a goddess, in your soul I would love to set sail
Oh daughter of a goddess, without fail, by your side i would love to grow old and frail
No, we haven't met
At least not yet
Dear soulmate
No, we haven't met
At least not yet
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 10:38 AM UTC
The line didn't move, though there were not
many people in it. In a half-hearted light
the lone agent dealt patiently, noiselessly, endlessly
with a large dazed family ranging
from twin toddlers in strollers to an old lady
in a bent wheelchair. Their baggage
was all in cardboard boxes. The plane was delayed,
the rumor went through the line. We shrugged,
in our hopeless overcoats. Aviation
had never seemed a very natural idea.
Bored children floated with faces drained of blood.
The girls in the tax-free shops stood frozen
amid promises of a beautiful life abroad.
Louis Armstrong sang in some upper corner,
a trickle of ignored joy.
Outside, in an unintelligible darkness
that stretched to include the rubies of strip malls,
winged behemoths prowled looking for the gates
where they could bury their koala-bear noses
and **** our dimming dynamos dry.
Boys in floppy sweatshirts and backward hats
slapped their feet ostentatiously
while security attendants giggled
and the voice of a misplaced angel melodiously
parroted FAA regulations. Women in saris
and kimonos dragged, as their penance, behind them
toddlers clutching Occidental teddy bears,
and chair legs screeched in the food court
while ill-paid wraiths mopped circles of night
into the motionless floor.
10.3k
An Airline we want you to boost
We travel coast to coast
We are not an Airlines being most
It’s friendship in the skies
Our Flight Attendants are the ones who advise
We extend our serious welcome even at the flight’s end
Friendship Airlines is about bringing passengers together
We are not like our other airlines competitors being the other
From the minute you sit in your seat
Your seat also elevates your feet
It’s that take off from the runway
Knowing that you are on vacation and you need our getaway
Our packages will add to your stay
Then it is within flight hours of your arrival
We care about the passengers we serve
It’s quality service that all our passengers deserve
Fly Friendship Airlines with the logo handshake way
It will be pure satisfaction in what you will say
Friendship Airlines being your friendly tip
There will be times when the plane might dip
Just remember our Pilots will be in control
Our friendly skies with a look of behold.
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 4:52 PM UTC
98
One dignity delays for all—
One mitred Afternoon—
None can avoid this purple—
None evade this Crown!
Coach, it insures, and footmen—
Chamber, and state, and throng—
Bells, also, in the village
As we ride grand along!
What dignified Attendants!
What service when we pause!
How loyally at parting
Their hundred hats they raise!
Her pomp surpassing ermine
When simple You, and I,
Present our meek escutheon
And claim the rank to die!
6.9k
Jade --
Stone of the side,
The antagonized
Side of green Adam, I
Smile, cross-legged,
Enigmatical,
Shifting my clarities.
So valuable!
How the sun polishes this shoulder!
And should
The moon, my
Indefatigable cousin
Rise, with her cancerous pallors,
Dragging trees --
Little bushy polyps,
Little nets,
My visibilities hide.
I gleam like a mirror.
At this facet the bridegroom arrives
Lord of the mirrors!
It is himself he guides
In among these silk
Screens, these rustling appurtenances.
I breathe, and the mouth
Veil stirs its curtain
My eye
Veil is
A concatenation of rainbows.
I am his.
Even in his
Absence, I
Revolve in my
Sheath of impossibles,
Priceless and quiet
Among these parrakeets, macaws!
O chatterers
Attendants of the eyelash!
I shall unloose
One feather, like the peacock.
Attendants of the lip!
I shall unloose
One note
Shattering
The chandelier
Of air that all day flies
Its crystals
A million ignorants.
Attendants!
Attendants!
And at his next step
I shall unloose
I shall unloose --
From the small jeweled
Doll he guards like a heart --
The lioness,
The shriek in the bath,
The cloak of holes.
5.1k
So excuse me while I dump out my Starbucks in the fridge
and paper shred my valued customer card.
Let me hate coffee for you,
Because you're the only person I've been willing to hate coffee for in three years.
Those other boys could never tear me from the coffee shop counter,
I would latch on like a koala to a tree limb,
Thirsting for that satisfying and hypnotizing liquid.
Let me loath coffee for you,
Because I haven't been so excited about loathing coffee in three years.
Its tantalizing aromatics will woo me no more.
The other men in my life have no affect on my love affair with these beans,
Their scents loop around my neck and drag me in,
The craving becomes irrefutable,
My bones creak with each body convulgence
In response to the grinders on the espresso machines.
Please let me get you a drink,
Orange juice? Milk?
Gatorade?
I swear, I'll keep coffee as far away as possible at all times,
Avoiding every Dunkin' Donuts while driving,
Every quaint mom-and-pop coffee shop while walking,
And flight attendants will never dare bring a coffee ***
on their food cart when we fly.
I won't ***** this up with the **** coffee,
Because perhaps it was coffee the last three times that left things in rancid rot,
The filters from yesterday's shift never disposed of.
Let's go anywhere but a coffee shop together,
Let's go everywhere but a coffee shop forever.
And I promise,
I won't even try and sneak a latte around you,
But can I please keep my chai tea?
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 12:01 AM UTC
I saw 3 stars floating
in the window over Greenland.
The clouds below in the night
sky represented the snow blind
vision of this half-country,
half-forgotten-continent.
My stomach ached, felt like gas.
I wondered if the flight attendants
were robbing a nap
in the foreground of
our lives.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 3:38 PM UTC
The tangible entity of consciousness is fleeting
Scene:
A elegant party but not quite extravagant
Clinking wine glasses echo through transparent walls
Twenty-two hundred lulls over the city like that of a shadow
This isn’t an ungodly hour nor is this a typical night
It starts when She enters in a red gown that elongates her figure
A pianist smirks in the corner — a grin that’s almost sinister
The clinking of wine glasses abruptly stops when its replacement of grim notes fills the glass house
The attendants still seem cheerful
(How peculiar?)
A stranger pulls her into a waltz but his eyes look hauntingly familiar
Unbenounced to her, He too dances with a stranger
Both on separate sides of the glass room
Both dancing with the unknown
Yet each pair seems to recognize some prominent feature
Nostalgic for what has never been
(How do you preserve a memory in reality?)
Through the glass house mirrors sit in obscure angles
One could see that within each reflection He and She were projected into the other room
Each glance towards the mirrors posed no questions
For both pairs seemed identical
Now their lives may have been content in accepting this dance with a “stranger” I suppose
But that was not the plan of this party
For guests grew tired of sipping on Beaujolais and listening to solem tunes
The pianist presented a different song, more lively yet equally eerie
Their feet paced with the new rhythm which called for a spin
(An act as dramatic as such was only proper for the scene)
With a grand gesture She turns, finally seeing the glass barriers
And for the first time that night He and She were face to face
A perfect dilemma to entertain an audience
In a frenzy She tried to speak
“I love you”
“I love you”
“I love you”
But each plea for affection deemed futile
For the grin on His face became that of the pianist
Her emotions were a downward spiral of gray shaded confusion
And with a sinister laugh He (or he) smashed the glass, shredding all source of reality
He was the hallucinogen and She was angry at him for making Her feel
And each guest cheered “bravo” demanding an encore
But this tragedy, dear friends, has come to the end
She’ll never know how the stars look where he is
(Is such a loss truly a loss?)
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 12:11 AM UTC
Lightly come or lightly go:
Though thy heart presage thee woe,
Vales and many a wasted sun,
Oread let thy laughter run,
Till the irreverent mountain air
Ripple all thy flying hair.
Lightly, lightly -- - ever so:
Clouds that wrap the vales below
At the hour of evenstar
Lowliest attendants are;
Love and laughter song-confessed
When the heart is heaviest.
3k
As I move along this Jaded biway
Gathering up all the discarded refuse
Of all the people freely moving on
With the scattered discourse of their lives
I wonder if they ever even realize
The wonderous thoughts that materialize
In the minds - of those confined
To time upon time upon endless time
Let loose through the portals
Of rubber wheeled time machines
The half consumed french fries
And the other assorted wrappers
From the king or the colonel or old MacDonald
To await the attention of me
Or one of my Band of Brothers
Stripe garbed attendants on a social mission
To gather up all that is discarded
Picking up all the pieces for a dollar a
day
Serving my time for some stupid crime
That I might never have done
If I'd been given the job... Like... Perhaps
Picking up trash on the side of the road
And for the feeling of pride - at earning my own
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 6:01 PM UTC
You wait on the smooth and shiny floor
of the arrival area with mixed feelings,
you're a groom expecting his bride
to be led to him slowly and unscathed
on the sliding plastic pieces of carousel.
You think about how relieved you are
for making it out of the plane,
how you managed to mumble
an indistinct farewell to
the pretty flight attendants
that filled your in-flight fantasies.
Then you also think about
the last time you came through this airport
and your luggage did not arrive;
how the uncountable footsteps
and phone calls yielded nothing.
That's when little beads of sweat
begin to flock on your brow.
The first few luggage are discharged
through the small opening in the wall,
arriving with subdued fanfare on the carousel.
An all black Samsonite cruises by,
followed closely by a blue Nike sports bag
that puffs out its chest as if in a military parade.
Then a green and white plaid bag drifts by
and you wonder if the owner is from Ghana
or perhaps a proud Nigerian.
The plastic draped Travelpro catches your eye,
half torn to shreds - a good reminder
of the hazards of cargo handling.
Four minutes go by
and you've become a detective
swiftly and skilfully scanning the bags
as they drive by in their solemn procession.
Then you spot that red and black duffel bag
wearing your Mum's purple ribbon
and your eyes instantly light up.
Your cheeks push up in delight
and your lips become glued
in a perpetual clown smile.
As it moves close and you pick it up,
you notice the early rays of light
that have begun to filter in
through the concrete slits in the wall.
Suddenly you realize:
what a great day it is!
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 8:11 AM UTC
By: David W. Clare
When it comes to shopping here's your key!
Don't bother walking Targets
aisle number three...
There is no competition anywhere!
Whether you need a loaf of bread, tools or underwear...
Walmart is around every corner just for you!
24 hours and a dozen smiles easy to see...
Prices so low; it's all almost free!
Toasters, fans, beds, loafers, bikes... Clean bathrooms open up for you all day and night...
Walmart offers parking under a big spot light!
Friendly attendants will treat you right...
The best security anywhere around!
Why bother shopping at any other place in town?
Crock Pots over on aisle 17!
...the best way to save money I've ever seen!
Walmart, Walmart!
Now you're shopping smart!
Your right at Home at Walmart !
(C) In perpetuity all rights reserved
(P) FilmNoirWorks
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 8:56 PM UTC
A pale yellow butterfly weaves in-between the legs of Plai-Jum Pui.
In the middle of the Thai jungle the hard sun beating down,
it tempts this angelic beast with its life.
Trusting in an elephant not to step on you,
Rocking back and forth on the bones of his back.
I guess I've done the same.
A Boeing jet, double decker.
Five hundred and twenty five people balancing on its wings.
The turbulence cradles us back to sleep,
finding motherly comfort in the foreign flight attendants reassuring words.
Having faith in aluminum sheets,
we all drift back to sleep.
A knock on the door and a call from the neighbor,
complaints of boundaries being resisted and property abused.
Fences acting as a seam to a fiery feud.
Guardian of their own selfish wills.
The worst war is fought from within,
a fight with your own kin.
A naive creature is spared its life,
confiding in the unsure and unreliable.
lacking trust for each other,
and burdening these winged seraphs and mothers.
The assumed minor species rely on one another,
having no need for metal protection and a religious buffer.
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 3:45 PM UTC
It was a bright spring day out by the pool
We’d gathered together amidst lawn chairs
To watch
A somewhat portly
Man centered in the water
Swirling like Esther
Incanting
We sipped our ****** wine and smiled cautiously but amused no less.
From the far northern edges came a little
Light haired boy dressed like an angel
Or perhaps the son
Of Poseidon
I think the whole point of this had something to do with Poseidon
Or some other god of the sea
That remained unclear for
Me at least
Needless to say, this was a pool
A little pool with green astroturf surrounding
Piquant with chlorine
Not churning and grey.
Again, to the north stood the child
His son no doubt
Who must have been told simply and repeatedly
Just go to Daddy in the pool
Stand by the side
And he will pick you up
Hold onto your trident
Ok!?
But upon making his move to
Daddy
the child
Misstepped
Stumbled
Fell
And in so doing began to wail
Leaving his otherwise stoic father
Perplexed and annoyed
Astonished
His eyes squinting out the sun
His performance ending before it ever began
Three women rushed to the little wails
The mother scooped her child into her arms
Cradling the tears to her *******
Her attendants ran for vanilla ice cream
The boy now sated
Was resplendent in calm satisfaction
Father left the pool
Make-up running down his wet face
The child ate his ice cream from the bowl
steadfast in his concentration
and seeming innocence
The mother held her little man
The man in charge
We stood up and left for more ****** wine
Perhaps the Pinot.
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 11:21 PM UTC
Oh my word, I remember
every little part of that weekend,
right down to the three-piece outfit
I had purchased at Bloomingdale's
the evening previous.
You know, ya hear stories
left and right about people
winning tickets to this n' that,
but ya never imagine actually
being the nineteenth caller!
When I revealed the occasion
this baby blue ensemble would
be worn in, the cute little saleslady
paused, looked up, and said,
"Why bother seeing him anymore?"
And I tell ya, there's plenty
other, less Christian yearly
Graceland attendants who woulda
flipped their lids had they heard
such malarkey!
Still, I just couldn't deny it.
She had a bit of a point.
This was mid-70s Elvis,
mid-50s Elvis' drunk uncle.
He had gone from Rolling Stone
to National Enquirer in nothing
flat, it seemed.
So all I could muster was
an understanding smile, because
she couldn't help but join the
bandwagon, especially when his
gut got larger and the rumors
became more outrageous.
Still, their loss!
I say that to this day,
because what Little Miss Shopgirl
and the legions of non-believers
did not think to consider
was the charm in "has been" Elvis.
A week before this legendary
concert experience, I had been
forced by circumstance to purchase
my very first pair of bifocals!
It was also around the time,
I'm sure, Harry left me.
So, the main event, I'm there,
third row from the main stage,
seeing Elvis for the first time
since our crazed youthful years-
a bedazzled jumpsuit walks on stage,
and I'm on my feet before I know it!
There was a little less swivel in his
hips. He looked a little tired, too,
all those years of singing do that.
How did it feel, then, to see the King
make his way across a cheap fog
machine, mutton chops and
love handles galore?
It felt like two lifelong friends
growing old, losing all those
frivolous people together-
"Are You Lonesome Tonight"
was still asked with the same
dreamy passion in 1973.
I've still got the handkerchief
he threw to me that night,
**** near lost it when I
caught the thing.
It's blue with polka dots,
ya wanna take a gander?
Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 5:21 AM UTC
Flight attendants always warn you to put your mask on before helping anyone else, because you have to safe yourself before you can save others. The same goes when you're in a pool trying to help someone drowning; you have to be able to keep yourself afloat or you'll both drown. I've never been a good listener though so I'd crash and burn for you because it really doesn't matter if my lungs fill up with water and I drown from the inside out as long as your breath comes easier at night.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
When we look back
there is nothing but blotches
A faded remnants of the
brown-eyed school attendants.
Uprooted like floating log houses.
Convergent whims of the ******* children.
I'll be sure to take you down with me.
Down deep into the cellar.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 9:11 PM UTC
Bouncers can only stop and stare, maybe
get involved when their contract states
they've got to care, but up to that line
they wait on doorstops and thresholds,
looking for kisses from the makeup clad gold.
Smokers swell in the sea mist of the
open smoking area, they talk ideas
and travel plans, wave to no one
hoping they'll wave back again.
The bar men, the bar women and the cloakroom
attendants sing along to the songs
under tired, muttered breaths,
hoping the depth of the queue
subsides into something more serviceable.
And after?
Young ones with freshly ironed faces
**** into gutters and speak in
half-rhyme stutters, Morse code flutters that
translate into nothing more than, another beer please.
They yell as if they own the sky,
keep their echoes on rope tied to the
openings of back alleyways,
showing to her and her and her and him, his best friend, that he's
the drunkest of them all.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 11:00 AM UTC
I am weightless,
Zero gravity.
My ears pop,
No chewing gum.
Synthetic leather squeaks
Under the pressure of my little hands,
Take off.
The city shrinks outside my window.
Lights like stars blink on the ground.
Generic food smells mix
With the feather soft voices
Of flight attendants.
We're almost first class.
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 1:36 PM UTC
We are the ***** purveyors of other peoples lives
renouncing the living breathing beating heart
in exchange for another photo of craft ale
and home-cooked food with a foot note description
as if it would fill our bellies and sate our hunger.
We are the dark wave tsunami of digital information
waxing lyrical about that holiday in Spanish sunshine
and a rant about car parking attendants and traffic jams
rather than the outstretched palm to jaw caress of realness
instead we line up perspectives of another bottle of wine.
We are the breeders of the optic L'enfant terrible
gorging on the memories of other worlds in 140 characters
snap shots of the life we could have had outside of the screens
the spineless automatons of digitized free love
the could've been, would've been lumbering electronic has-been.
We are the tumultuous storm rising fighting against the unknown power
we unite to save bees and coral reefs
and explore the concepts of actually doing something humanitarian
all we need do is sign the petition before the 11th hour
and be one of the thousand voices saying:
NO. We won't take this any more!
We are the saviours of our time and the rescue merchants of lost dogs
imbibed by Scrabble and Candy Crush weaving the elusive like a band aid
the tapestry of memes and images of cute kitteh's in boxes
chasing the shadows of reality on a stick for kicks
and all the while the moon is out there somewhere shinning her light
glorious silver light etching through the hash tag of cloud formations.
We are no longer what we thought we were. We are each other.
A haemoglobin gelatinous mass of misinformation and forgotten dreams
You are not alone. Even if you wanted to be,
my friend, my sister, my lover, my brother
quoting movies as if it were an inner wisdom speaking in tongues.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 10:01 AM UTC
No more the flow’ry scenes of pleasure rife,
Nor charming prospects greet the mental eyes,
No more with joy we view that lovely face
Smiling, disportive, flush’d with ev’ry grace.
The tear of sorrow flows from ev’ry eye,
Groans answer groans, and sighs to sighs reply;
What sudden pangs shot thro’ each aching heart,
When, Death, thy messenger dispatch’d his dart?
Thy dread attendants, all-destroying Pow’r,
Hurried the infant to his mortal hour.
Could’st thou unpitying close those radiant eyes?
Or fail’d his artless beauties to surprise?
Could not his innocence thy stroke controul,
Thy purpose shake, and soften all thy soul?
The blooming babe, with shades of Death o’er-spread,
No more shall smile, no more shall raise its head,
But, like a branch that from the tree is torn,
Falls prostrate, wither’d, languid, and forlorn.
“Where flies my James?” ’tis thus I seem to hear
The parent ask, “Some angel tell me where
“He wings his passage thro’ the yielding air?”
Methinks a cherub bending from the skies
Observes the question, and serene replies,
“In heav’ns high palaces your babe appears:
“Prepare to meet him, and dismiss your tears.”
Shall not th’ intelligence your grief restrain,
And turn the mournful to the cheerful strain?
Cease your complaints, suspend each rising sigh,
Cease to accuse the Ruler of the sky.
Parents, no more indulge the falling tear:
Let Faith to heav’n’s refulgent domes repair,
There see your infant, like a seraph glow:
What charms celestial in his numbers flow
Melodious, while the foul-enchanting strain
Dwells on his tongue, and fills th’ ethereal plain?
Enough—for ever cease your murm’ring breath;
Not as a foe, but friend converse with Death,
Since to the port of happiness unknown
He brought that treasure which you call your own.
The gift of heav’n intrusted to your hand
Cheerful resign at the divine command:
Not at your bar must sov’reign Wisdom stand.
1.8k
I was given, at my first birthday party,
a gift sublime, a lovely, lush garden
I played among its fonts and flowers,
traded baseball cards with Atlas and Athena,
rolled in high grass with iridescent dragons
Then one fine day through leaflets high,
I spied a fat juicy fig, haloed by Summer sun
The tree was poison, I knew, its sweet fruit
most likely bad as well, but in my arrogance
I climbed the trunk, got tangled in its branches
I lost control, lost something never truly held,
and fell, through viney snarls and vicious thorns
Fell farther than I ever rose, to putrid death,
moldered slime beneath the canopy
of verdant paradise on gentle hillside above
I crawled about in mud and earthen warrens
Slowly, year by year, learned to walk again
But arrogant I remained—had not my
lesson learned, and so I doubled-down,
made mockery of this chance for redemption
All the sweet virgins did I **** and teach
our children sin, in crystalline waters
I did shat on mulched fields, amber and green,
with cigarette butts and baggies blowing
listless on Autumn winds
When Winter finally came, as winters must,
to **** off weakened souls, and make
the garden ready for new attendants,
I did not learn, I did not take the blame...
It's Him, I cried, I have not power to do this!
But then my youngest daughter sobbed
She watched, sadly, out clouded, grimy windows
and, looking up at my limpid, sullen eyes
crawled into my arms one last, lonely time
to face what I could not...
Behold, the Silent Spring
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 11:16 AM UTC
I Never was a huge fan of crowds
144 souls in tow,
on the shoulders of two
Floating just above a sea of clouds
You never know
What humans may do
I'm free up here, gliding through the air
Enjoy a free drink, and just let the pilots care
Captain D.B. Cooper flying only god knows where
Tray tables are stowed,happily reclined in my chair
I pray that heaven has no bag fees
And no security checks please
No need to wait in any lines
And no fasten seat belt signs
Strap in for life, there will be immense turbulence
All the more rewarding, dog"s first time over the fence
So seize thy day, for it's your vessel alone that you're commanding
So flight attendants don't even think about preparing for landing
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
On the outside of the city of Karnal,
Opposite the Bull Complex of NDRI,
Situated is its Christian cemetery...
Deserted it seems away from the city,
No attendants stay at its rusted gates,
Beyond its boundary an eerie silence..
Once in a blue moon it is thronged by,
Many mourners clad in formal black,
But silenced afterwards the coffin dug 6' deep.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 5:16 AM UTC
The day I left, I forgot to pack self-consciousness.
It was all too easy to reach into the mirror
and pull out my imperfections like saltwater taffy.
Then I ate them.
I wondered as I boarded the plane,
I wondered why my hands weren’t clenched in unrevealing fists,
I wondered why my eyes didn’t flicker to the person
behind me in front of me to my left to my right over here over there.
Perhaps my eyes were now focused on the clouds above and new lands below.
The day I left, I neglected to pack loneliness.
I roamed a new city, so alive, my lungs made room for more crisp
cigarette-infused air and I sat on the steps of a grand opera hall for hours
watching people walk, talk, listen, look, shop, love, learn, pretend, remember.
I understood why my arms did not ache
from the strain of carrying this lonesomeness,
I understood why there was so much beauty
in being a person submerged among thousands of people.
I realized it was a privilege I had been abusing for far too long.
The day I left, I refused to pack fear.
It unsettled my stomach and dampened most of the fun.
I left it there, tucked and stowed neatly away under my plane seat,
sending it back to where I came from and hoping
that the flight attendants would do a thorough cleaning.
I realized why some people got lost on purpose,
that there was fearlessness in not knowing
your north from south from west from east.
The day I came back, I carried
another missing piece of my vagabond heart.
I found it drifting in the strains of a street musician’s Vivaldi,
found it etched into the wooden signs above cafes and bakeries
found it in the spitting passion of lips and linguistics.
I recognized the part of me that was scattered across continents
and I brought it back home.
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 2:58 PM UTC