Terminal Velocity

The board flickered red like a warning light

and suddenly Tuesday didn't exist anymore.

We were a hundred strangers denied the night,

slumping our shadows against the gate door.

The agent was eating a salad from plastic,

stabbing a crouton while she told us the news.

Her calm was a thing I found almost drastic

while I stood there shaking in my slip-on shoes.

Down on the belt of the luggage claim,

a single blue bag went around and around.

It didn't have a master, it didn't have a name,

just a desperate need to get off of the ground.