My Airport Poem

Thanks to Mike (for the inspiration to write it), here's my self-mocking airport poem a la my March 10 post....

I transgress gates
like I transpose lines
from that sonnet
you used to like

(and probably still do).

But I can't see through
the glassy
smokeless fog
of families and non-cave dwellers
chaos and happiness and life.

My traveling moves
in tight, spiralling
circles;
winds closer and closer
around my neck,
as memories of those years
cascade through me.

I don't live in their colorful
world
of beginnings,
and hellos,
and fresh starts.

I dream cleanly
of moving shapeless
through the maze
of blinding congeniality;
and romanticize humanity
like only
naivety and self-imposed
brooding isolationism
can.

Other is outside
by choice.
That knowledge
without interrogation
renders me
ridiculous.

I am small
in the sea of
mundane purpose.
I make myself important
by not fitting in.