I miss a plane mid-winter
in an airport midway,
with not enough time to change
and more than enough time to think,
trudge to a snack bar
to be comforted with a grilled
ham and cheese on rye by a woman
who’s almost too frail to flip it
A man in blue uniform rests a broom
against the deli case,
sweeps a cup of coffee from the counter,
lands it smoothly on a round table top
“O, whatzit all about anyway, Agnes?”
he booms over the darkness of his java
with a mean glance at me looking
blankly at him for a clue
I hurry to the last flight of the day,
stuck between his question and a heavy man
yakking about semiconductors
all the way to Cincinnati
Even in my dream before landing
I hear him betting me “ten to one”
I’ll never figure it out