The business executive
walks up and down
the departure lounge
gesticulating wildly,
talking to a voice
in his ears
about presentations
and the exchange rate.

A newlywed couple sit
shoulder to shoulder
legs folded over each others
laughing at pictures
on their phones.

A single, middle-aged divorcée
reads a New York Times Bestseller
sighing before each page turn.

A young mother,
hair escaping her ponytail
and trailing over her forehead,
collapses into a metal chair,
eyes closed, head back, feet in the aisle,
while her four-year-old
pulls daddy from shop to shop
pointing at stuffed animals,
boxes of jelly beans and flowers.

A teenaged boy,
chewing a massive wad of bubble gum,
wearing a backwards cap
and untied basketball sneakers,
lounges, legs extended,
playing a video game on an iPad.

Everyone else perches
on the edge of hard seats,
eyes on the uniformed people
behind the desk
at Gate 2B.

Soon we shall all be
40 000 feet above the earth,
heads above the clouds.

PAD 21 in November

For today’s prompt, write a travel poem.