At the JFK Airport people are
standing
pacing smoking leaving in and
out
just like any other airport
planes
shoot off in the sky and
squeal back
Some couples cry parting with
loved
and there is a little girl
laughing some
where when her father comes
in new
gift in hand jacket over his
suited arm
It’s all starting to look
like a real com
mercial by now when I show up
trying to write this poem and
believe
that there is no pain or
horror here
No helmets uniforms or sand
bugs in
sight until I miss my plane
transfer
back home back home back home
I’m fine because all of the
planes
They shoot off, squeal back
don’t explode, people hug
kiss, and even cry, nobody
dies.
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