fear of flying, part 2
at the end of the escalator
ride towards baggage claim,
a dozen men wait in black
trench coats, each holding up
a sign with a bold magic marker
name, under tight lips a matching
magic marker line – like angels
of death finally coming to pick
us up – from our wager with the skies

(for k)

april crushing –
trading furtive glimpses
through a calculated
slice of doorway


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