Thoughts While Sitting In The Pittsburgh Airport

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 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 think I’d spend

all my time,

flying from city to city,

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

are options;

that there’s more to life,

than the little world

in which we live.

.

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