Writing in the airport again,
this familiar in-between,
which is only half real.

Neither destination,
nor end of the line,
in which all is transient
and the days pass in a haze
of flight delays filling
the electronic displays.

Too much time spent waiting to leave,
too much time spent contemplating reasons
to do so.

Too many travelers, nowhere and everywhere,
writing in the glow of the full-length window,
words carried out and away over the concourse.

Barcelona, May 2017


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