Airport Bar

We’re pushed together, packed like sardines at the bar

He sees me reading and strikes up a conversation,

Friendly fella sort of guy.

I place my book down to indulge him-

we’re both, after all, just trying to survive

the next flight,

the next trip home.

“You could fit hundreds of books in a kindle,” he tells me, as I begin stuffing my book in my bag

And immediately

I regret not telling him to fuck off.

Categories Creative Writing, PoetryTags , , , , ,

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