Mirage.

the wait.

I walk,

Side by side

With

A woman

Scolding her

Little troublemaker.

She turns right,

As I move ahead.

She's heading for

7B,

And, I

For 9.

I see,

Another city's

Name glaring

From the gate.

She will

Be returning

Home,

To a warm bed,

I hope.

I hope,

She doesn't

Chide her

Little troublemaker

Often.

Childhood,

Is meant

For truancy,

And,

Getting away

With it.

I walk,

Aimlessly,

Callously,

Knowing

I have some time to spare.

Coffee, donuts and

Earnest kisses.

More earnest,

And more sincere,

I believe.

For you never

Know when

Its the last goodbye.

I smile,

A little,

To myself.

At the sight,

Of an elderly couple.

I'd like to

Believe they

Are going

For their

Not second,

But fourth honeymoon.

I make up stories,

I write them poems,

In my mind.

I move my fingers,

Through my

Tangled hair.

Sneaking a glance,

The boy sits

Across me,

Staring out of

The partition of glass.

Partitioning him,

And

The clouds,

Maybe his hopes and despairs, too.

He could use a shave,

His eyes look tired.

Did I see,

My reflection in

His desolate sighs?

I do not know,

Where he aims to go.

I only know,

Where my flight lands.

As I look,

I see so many

Dotted blacks, browns and grays.

I wonder,

Do they see their reflections as well?

How many,

Have parted ways,

Passed each other,

In these corridors?

Not knowing,

They are,

And probably would be

Searching for them,

The stranger at the airport,

The boy with the stubble,

That stay across them,

For the rest of their lives.

I frown to myself,

Fate,

Can be wicked at times.

"Is this seat taken?"

I look up.

His voice is tired,

Like his eyes.

I shake my head,

And he

Collapses beside me.

They have announced my flight.