…or None At All

Found, lost and waiting in

The midnight-lounge,

Where the coffee jugglers

Seek entertainment, recreation

Playing games with the hobbled

Midnight’s lame-wheeled trolleys.

Neon lights lazily flare in false ceilings

While aviation aisle angels

High-heel, high-heel, antiseptically

Glamorous and out-of-element,

Across their own reflections and echoes.

Beyond the safe-illusion glass wall

Night fog laps at the sills,

Blown like a ghost-tide across

Cheap-jewel-taxi light ways that

Slope away, some up, some down

That will take us beyond the known.

Death drags his cold-drink frame

To sit and exchange vacant stares

Across the deserted uncomfortable-warmth:

You can only hope that, this time,

He is not waiting for the

Same delayed flight that you are.

Leaning forward he whispers loudly

“There are either two kinds of fortune,

My friend …or none at all.”

5 thoughts on “…or None At All

  1. heh, i see you dislike airports as much as i do,
    some rich and cynical imagery here bee seeker, i concur sir..

    • beeseeker says:

      Rushed to get there on time … flight arrival delayed by one hour plus, car park charges set to rise by ten English pounds every seven minutes !!
      Moved the car, got a cappuccino !
      The rest is down to the poet that helps me out sometimes.

  2. johncoyote says:

    Amazing use of words. I had to read again. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.

  3. Just wish to say your article is as astounding. The clarity in your
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