I like to sit in airports,
if I were rich I would spend
all my time,
flying from place to place,
not because I wanted to see
any of them,
although occasionally I might
take a ride around the 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 sleeping with,
who they’re not sleeping with,
of course I would 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 is more to life,
than the little world
in which we live.
.
.
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