Author: Rose of Dresden PM
airportsRated: Fiction K+ - English - Words: 196 - Published: 04-06-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2905472
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
once he went to america where the airports are nondescript,
consistent hubs of a consciousness traversing, the breath-beating
blood in travel, in leaving, returning, and when he took his hour waiting in the
terminal, he closed his eyes to the river of language eddying sharp
currents and bursts of sound until it smoothed itself once again and
he slept there waiting in one of the world's thousand nowhere
he does not remember much else about america
it was a long time ago.
this is home. he doesn't go outside anymore, not since the latest news front
positioned itself outside his doorway. firecracker wet-work of development,
the unconscious sneers of young boys carrying stolen soda cans down the
burning streets; this is all the detail he's ever needed, little window-view between
the boards, the heat finding its way inside, no barricade strong enough for season.
the french soldiers wait at the Abidjan airport.
they smoke cigarettes and someone sells them
wine- the officers blink it away, take paper cups
from the vendors and choke down the lukewarm
outside, night falls.
this could be anywhere.