poem

 Airport

In the airport lounge 

I’m the one having the deepest,

Most profound thoughts,

Little kernels of poetry

Imbibing hidden moistures,

Swelling and bursting open.

I’m not scrolling the apps

Or editing photos on my phone

I’m not checking scores on the sports 

Ticker or reading trashy romance novels

I’m reading modern poetry

With an eye on larceny

Looking for one line,

A snippet of a clause

To swipe and steer 

In a much better direction.

By the time I get there

No one will remember 

Where I started

Even in this one.

When the gate agent calls 

For the first group to board

I get in line even though it’s not my turn

I’m supposed to be in group nine.

6/1/25