Impatience is in all of us in the business of hope, tugging her kit closer.
I thought, Don't go, but she'd ramped, the plane lifted-off for an ill-at-ease, long airflight to a land less comfortable yet
filled with -- pick one -- deep and ancient blood feud, dengue, rice blight, bird flu, tyranny
You say good morning to the Colonel and they strike you silly
at what used to be Vocation. But it's unsure, pretty surely not, a voice that's calling you
You call yourself, you're facing yourself, you've faced yourself
And I turn past the tourist toys and scanners, the Starbucks, escalators, skybridge, out through Departures into the concrete lot, unlock my Toyota with a beep, watch out for cars, and wend my way to home.