On the way to gate D26

< Scarcity | Meditation >

Slightly fuzzy from an
entirely passable Virginia cabernet (who knew?),
peeing as bottled watter pulls
my ripped black hemp drawstring pants
and from the booth behind me -- no, to the left as well
the loud trill of a telephone, I think it must be
causes a seated, pooping man
to drop his magazine.

Sunday, October 8. 2000
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