Planes fly in circles
all day, all night.

You traveled alone, again.

There’s always one bag
no one claims on the belt.

Movement stops, you wait
in the airport’s clinical lights
while conversations blend to a drone.

Beach bracelets and t-shirts in tow,
others wait for rides in the river of cars.

Passengers from other planes filter in
and tend their incoming sheep.

There are destinations,
but don’t rush.

 

(originally published in 50GS, Winter 2018)