An Early Morning Poem

There are an astounding
Number of humans
Awake and asleep
At gates D3–5.

There are characters
A thousand stories
A beautiful tapestry
Of connectedness

As we await our turn
To experience the wonder
Of human flight
Together as strangers.

I imagine that is
What I’d be thinking
If I wasn’t so fucking tired.

Go back to your homes
All you fucking humans.
What’s a tapestry anyhow?
It’s a dead art, like Latin.

And why are you asleep?
Aren’t you afraid to miss
Your stupid fucking flight
On a goddamned airplane?

And why are there so
mother fucking many of you
this mother fucking early?

At least I have a window seat.

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