Terminal

I’m tiptoeing on black and white tiles
avoiding laser beams from memory files
while the vending machine whirs
or is it the mind that stirs?

Between recognizable eyes
those that truth regularly defies
drops a collection of courage in a can
the last one of this lifespan

The liquid tickles my tongue
sedating the pain of words left unsung
as my eyes scan across why’s
or comfortably crafted lies

I’m stuck in this place between borders
depending on sporadic vending orders
Nothing here belongs to anyone
And no one belongs to anybody

Everything here seems to be tax-free
Boredom restrains to the highest degree
A broken piano played by someone
of whom I would’ve loved a be a grandson

His body seems to disapprove
Yet how soft is every move
and how does he craft so beautifully
Out of such broken things a melody

How is does he find peace in this place?
How does he sort the grace from the disgrace?
the endless restlessness from the ecstasy
the bright beginnings from the banshee

Too many how’s and too many why’s
Too little smiles and too little cries
That’s all I’m left with when I see him leave
for his plane away from this dreadful eve

Soon my plane too will leave the ground
But now I’m as much lost as found
between the luggage of the mind
buried under baggage to be left behind

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s