Transit Limbo

I sit in an airport again,
Waiting for a pilot
To take me to another airport.
A half-hour delay drags into three hours.
Exploring dingy newsstands,
Bagel kiosks,
Crummy restaurants with day-old nachos.
My back hurts from sitting, waiting,
Calculating time,
Draining the laptop battery.
Next to me, the purple lady with bad lipstick complains.
This is the worst thing ever, she says,
I'm never flying this airline again.
I tell her to blame the storm ripping through the region,
But she looks at me as if I have a social disease.
Weather, shmeather, she says,
Flying used to be fun, used to be glamorous,
Now they treat you like criminals.
I move away from her and sit across from a woman,
With explosive cleavage.
I try not to notice and put my head down.
I figure out what time it is at home and where I'm headed,
Heavy math,
Wondering if the hotel will save my room.
I think about my kids and where they might be
And what they're doing,
My wife who's sitting in bed alone.
One more day I won't see them,
Good or bad,
Absent father.
Living in airports.
If all the time I waited came together,
How much time would I have?
And what would I do with it to make me a better man?

© Poem Fix 2012

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