Standing at a lonely concourse

[tomoffing]

Spat from the shuttle bus
clutching an unwanted ticket
for an unchosen destination.
Two terminals between us
and oceans of sky.
No courage mustered for the final goodbye.

Your colour dimming now
bleached by the pallid grey
of neon fluorescence and linoleum.
No solace or sympathy found
in transient faces
obliviously headed for faraway places.

Aimlessly searching
for direction in directionless signs
and absently obeying orders
from unseen voices;
relieved for once
to be absolved of trying choices.

Snailing queues
past traveller's trappings,
fragrance and books and chocolate and news.
"Do you have checked baggage?
Did you pack this bag yourself?"
All I have to carry
I carry on myself.

Egg boxed
in a comfortless seat
seeing only sideways
while staring straight ahead
and leaning backwards
into what-if's and insteads.

Click and clank and clunk
clouds are broken
wheels are up.
"Do you have anything else to declare?"
Only that until the end
I will always care
for my complicated lover
and the simplest of any friend.