No coffee yet. Or 2much.
One wouldn’t be able2tell. But
I’m in line, typing poem into phone,
Imagining travel.. Flying, looking down
At whitened edges, peaks, intimidated
Clouds. Rushing to gate. Check in2
Room. Rest. RunWrite. Am I
Planning too much?
Day2– hardly somethingNew. Anothr
Schedule. So sick of them. Walk away
Run away zoom somehow… Singing
To grounds, floating in introduction–
Why do I let mySelf wait. Ever.