Saturday, December 27, 2008

Terminal 21

You left me today.
You left me on that damn jet plane.
I watched from a finger smudged window
like a war soldier's wife
and waved at your ascend.

Not now. Not here.
You won't stop me here.
I lick my finger and
wipe at the smudges,
turning the direction of my
muddy red sneakers
and stride -
towards the glass sliding doors.

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