Airport Thoughts / by grace mcgrade

Into the mechanical artifice of a airport,

sterile, fluorescent and bleak

where my only entertainment

comes in flushes of daydreams

about falling in love with strangers

assigning stories and monumental meaning to the slightest of gestures

a quivering hand

a glance a second too long

and I dissect and observe and invent

till I have exhausted my story telling.