Terminal C

I took notice of my own smile, just enough of a coffee buzz

Clear nasal passages don’t take for granted the cool smelling air. Deep breath.

Cordial eyes assisting one another suitcase duties on an airport shuttle bus

Hold your poles we are making a brake pumping turn. I chuckle at the drivers platform shoes.

I hear a southern drawl in a smokers voice, a mention of crabapples and it all brings me back to 1980. Grandma. I catch my reflection in the window under a Geico sign and I look good, one piece of hair falling down my forehead and no bags under my eyes. Hi.

And southern woman, she speaks about

Did she say that hello I heard. She.

I look back quickly that direction and see no one is speaking, just the usual zombies eating worms, drifting this way. That. Glowing faces from their connections never here in this scene just tuned into iPhone reality. We are alone desperately

The bus begins it’s click click click ascent about to crest the hill for a 50 foot drop my knees literally give way. What did I hear no one say my hearts palpitation and someone whispers my name

Lisa, in the open field, laughs at the waving flowers

and cowers not at the buzzing…… of a bee, even as it kamikazes directly towards


As she watches it race away to a tiny, imperceptible dot….it is replaced by an airplane flying so far above. Her moment of quiet contemplation of where it is heading is interrupted by the stomp a horses front hoof. (Oh yea, need to grab some hay)

I open my eyes
barely with my hands
suddenly frozen shut I can’t hang on as the bus stops
I nearly fall the doors
open so I act quick grab my bag and depart I kneel beside it  holding it feeling it
breathe and count backward 100 99 98 I need to overcome this and get back on
the next bus we aren’t even at Terminal A yet  (Oh yea, need to catch a plane)

and I used to ignore the freaks. Grandma? was her name Lisa? Why am I going to die?

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