Terminal Time

Eyes lose their way in the neon and the numbers. Departing, arriving, surviving. Does this arrow go west? Failing that test. Airports numb him he discombobulates, has to mentally unpack his baggage, put them all back together again pat his passport ten times, find a restroom, discover he is turned around. He papers over the missing words on his missing papers. Changing planes, mid-flight fright, rushing between one panic station and the next. Finding the right desk beyond the lights. The sweat of forgetting telephone numbers. Where is the country he looks for in the teaming traffic? The forest road to his new home is paved with lost directions. Will he be able to translate language and time when he gets there a ‘there’ still way beyond the gleaming maze of now? Maps and choices adrift now in the back of his mind. He sits for a moment among strangers in a strange place, imagines calmly passing through customs, his suit is not crumpled, he arrives breathing normally a calm well-seasoned traveler walks almost confidently out of a hazy terminal chaos.