a plain poem

Standard

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

propelled 
by equal portions of 
jet fuel
fear
desire

can they arrive in time
for the closing
meeting
waiting limo
wedding 
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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