The storm grounds us all alike — businessman,
bride, backpacker. Everyone has a story.
Your flight is equally delayed. The X-ray
zaps another soul. Four stark white hours
of doom scrolling on crinkled massage chairs,
keep charging the phone. Angry wheely luggage
grating over each uneven surface.
Blue and grey benches no one sleeps on. Everyone tries.
It's 2am. Do you know where your plane is?
The cherry lipstick attendant avoids your eyes.
The small hours gnaw. This is the other side
of jetset — indoor homelessness, fluorescent, unclaimed.
For once, I'm looking forward
to the turbulence.