Thought While Sitting in the Pittsburgh Airport

Written many, many years ago - W.F. Rhoads 2012

Occasionally I think

some people actually do like me;

I don’t know why

I never give them any reason to,

I never go out of my way

to raise a conversation

or offer a compliment,

but still;

sometimes I do get the feeling

that some people think I’m okay,

I suppose they mistake the silence

and sullen stare for deep thought

and inner reflection,

when the truth is

I just don’t want to talk to them,

but that’s okay,

I can’t have everybody

thinking I’m a bastard,

although it certainly wouldn’t bother me

if they did.

I like to sit in airports,

If I were rich I’d spend all my time

flying from place to place,

not to see any of them,

although occasionally I might

take a taxi ride into town,

but most of the time

I’d just eat, sleep, and live in the terminal,

perpetually between flights,

watching people,

wondering who they are,

where they’re going,

who they’re fucking,

who they’re not fucking,

of course I’d never talk to any of them,

because then my mental image

would probably be shattered.

In airports

thoughts always come fresh and sharp,

it always seems like there’s options,

that there’s more to life

than the little world

in which we live.