We shuffle through Departures
past Security, but even less sure
of ourselves, patting pockets,
feeling bags for tickets, passports,
bored, checking the electronic board
for gate numbers, 'Boarding';
the names of places gleam:
the familiar, the wild unknown.
Planes glide in, touch down,
while others roar off into clouds;
but here is another plane of mere
existence, the empty stares
of people who'd rather be elsewhere
and stores without poems, or poets.