Departures/Arrivals

Grab handles and go
Fatigue feeds us, steam off paper cups
Hurry up, hurry up
Burns lips
Impossibly late for six AM
More like impossibly early
Poor fools, poor fools
Line up

Your eyes meet mine in the airport glare
One going, one staying, two reasons for us to despair
Are these horrid mornings meant to withstand
Our haste and our graceless goodbyes

He waits at the gate
Clutching one single perfect rose
Hair combed, eyes forward
Waiting for one single perfect arrival

Her eyes meet his through a sea of faces
It suddenly slips into focus
The clutter and the crush deliver another fumbled embrace
A guarded and graceless hello