Boarding

Murmuring tones hum in the wide corridor.

A muffled cough crackles.

A raucous laugh pierces the low drone.

High pitched giggles jingle by the window.

Two kids climb on a metal bar,

hang and shimmy upside down like scooting ladybugs.

Outside a jet plane groans. I sing

“I’m leaving” as it slowly rolls.

Baggage carts bustle.

Vans seem aimless,

moving this way and that.

People scroll on phones,

peck at laptops,

study iPads,

all expressionless.

Gazing down with tech necks,

they gander at gaming gadgets.

Roller bags with bulging stomachs wait

piled high with red, green, and gray backpacks

ready to be hoisted on aching backs.

A white hoodie, legs splayed, hides

hair and eyes, head lolling

to the side, mouth open.

A baby wails for sleep, a bottle, a pacifier,

Parent’s face a mask of frustration,

pretend smile.

They bounce them up and down.

They travel to weddings, funerals,

vacations, business, or family.

Their destinations diverse

yet uniform as they wait.

The gate agent drones rules.

Grabbing boarding passes from pockets,

we slouch down the aisle to waiting seat belts,

their metal clasps click.

Long ago my work had me

flying a million miles a year.

In Maine and Montana,
Alaska and Alabama,

Mississippi and Massachusetts,

these airport places and faces,

indistinguishable.

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