A balmy
California morning
I head to New York
The ocean is so fragrant
I don’t want to leave
But I don’t want to stay.

When did travel become so disgusting?
People sitting on the floor
Of the terminal
Looking like savages,
Eating sandwiches.
Children screaming,
Parents doing nothing.
Adults wearing shorts,
Flip flops,
T-shirts,
Groaning.
It’s like an air
Conditioned renaissance faire.
Everything,
Everyone,
Looks dirty.

Blink blonk
Blink blonk
All in Tory Burch.

Blonk blink
Blonk blink
Ed Hardy.

Flip flop
Pajamas
I’ve counted one dress.

Not one tie.

Rat-a-tat-tat
Front and center.
Listen, your ink tells
Me
Nada, zip, zero.

Three men in blazers
A welcomed shock
They look so
clean
Amongst this schlock.

Legs akimbo
No I don’t want to see your toes.

It’s fucking mental out here.
Someone opened the gates,
Unbuckled the straight jackets!

A sneeze that would wake the dead
Echos across the terminal.
I need a drink.

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