a plain poem


about the sticky texture of the faux leather seats
the inevitable interiors of blues 
how thousands of bottoms
perched restlessly here before
stringing out minutes
in pages of text
fitful slumber, chin to chest
Words with Friends

by equal portions of 
jet fuel

can they arrive in time
for the closing
waiting limo
last hotel shuttle of the day
dinner reservation
connection to their real destination

final labored breath and switchblade of all goodbyes?

©Julie Ayers
April 2012 – NaPoWriMo 4


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