A Sunday Afternoon Poem

Goodbye To All That

The early dawn looked clear.
The stale breakfast tasted good.
The sickness in the stomach was fine.
The planes arriving like honey bees were on time.
The crowds shoving into their seats was OK.
The emptying into the bus by the dozens went well.
The metal steps and rusty handrail deplaning were welcome.
And standing at the luggage carrousel when everyone we were supposed
to know who played at knowing us became strangers again
among all the other strangers waiting for luggage
when I too became a stranger even to myself was best.

~