Gate B12

The board went red and the room went still

except for the sound of a hundred heavy sighs.

It’s nobody’s fault and it’s nobody’s will,

just a storm somewhere that the radar spies.

I bought a sandwich in a plastic box,

a triangle of ham and sweating cheese.

I’m checking the time on all the terminal clocks

while my knees begin to stiffen and to freeze.

The gate agent turned the microphone away.

She doesn't want to hear the questions anymore.

I guess I’m here until the break of day,

sleeping on the carpet by the sliding door.