Thoughts While Sitting in the Pittsburgh Airport

occasionally I think

some people like me;

I don’t know why;

I never give them a reason,

I never go out of my way to raise a conversation

or offer a compliment,

but still, sometimes I get the feeling

that some people think I’m okay;

I suppose they mistake the silence and sullen stare,

for deep thought and reflectiveness,

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 was rich, I would spend all my time

flying from place to place,

not to see the sights,

although occasionally I might

take a taxi ride into town,

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 be shattered;

in airports,

thoughts always come fresh and sharp,

simple and clean,

it always seems like there are options,

more to life than the little world

in which we live.

.

.