Terminal Gateway

there goes your control again
‘twas time you checked it in
like the baggage from your last vacation
of suitcases filled with Gin
conveyor belt is rotating  
but you keep missing ‘em
grasping forward to reach your suitcases
and they go by again
a destination lies ahead
did you leave anything behind?
other than a messy bed, a messy head
cigarettes and hollow bottles of wine
a paved road elicits you to drive forward and away  
a glance into the rearview mirror and
suddenly, the view is so much clearer
your drawing close and yet not any nearer
this is your life, this is no theater
and destiny whispered to you on a clear starlit night
expressing with her gratitude ‘you tried with all your might,
you can’t give up for the carrier comes around once again;
reach for your satchel one last time,
the satchel filled with Gin’
ponderously you chew this thought
and feel it tastes like metal
you spit it out
you need more time
more cigarettes and hollowed wine
your whiskey and your gin await
to see you at the airport gate
yet you won’t ever reach home plate
because you could not regulate
and never circumnavigate
because your shit ain’t straight

About Maya

I like words like "labyrinthian," "kerfuffle," and "serendipitous" because they're mellifluous. I love poetry, pumpkin ales, sangria, long summer days, Fall foliage, going out of my way to step on crunchy leaves in October, live music, Jazz, Salsa dancing, theater, film (foreign and indie), the arts (myriad varieties), dance (in theory and practice) and any place where I can sit outdoors and take it all in.
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