In the Sea-Tac airport
the Tuesday before Thanksgiving,
I wait for a plane to D.C.

Before I get far, my mind starts
thinking again. Down the
road again. One thing

I can say for certain
amongst this bustle, this
flurry of air-bound maniacs,

is: I’d like it best to stay
in one place for a time,
for the rest of my time.

A transitionless life;
a lawn chair in dry heat
spent with dead friends.

My heart filled with
empty tallboys and ash.
I want to go nowhere.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s