Watching the people waiting and praying, I wonder

What for?

They are gathered in groups of lone travelers,

Each making a noticeable effort to remain unseen by each other-

All of them

Waiting.

Nobody wants to pause their plans,

Like everyone was born at the turn of an hour.

All of them rushing to entrust their lives to a steel titan,

You’d think you’d see them flood the tarmac-

Arms spread, running headlong until they touch down anywhere else.

The businessmen, in their suits of ash and black, sit aside.

They lounge at the Admiral Club between the boarding times,

While everyone else crams their lives into their luggage.

They can live off of single slices of terminal sushi

And they only worry about the plane crashing

Because it would make them late.

Somewhere among the rattling of the split-flap display

And the chirping metal detectors,

Someone considers the airport more of a home than their home.

And to them

The difference is up in the air.