Current mood:

accomplished

Airport Poem - Version I sent my Schmooky
Getting 750 Soldiers Through Airport Security

Young men from Dallas are
being deployed from Gate B18.
Bodies flow along making a
round rhythm, bodies almost without
exception manufactured handsome, large,
and glowing. I see each set down
his bag, square his shoulders,
and look up, his hands mindlessly
presenting a practiced performance:
a leather tongue flips open, teeth
are pulled aside, and his belt
finally snakes off in one long snap!
He stomps one foot, then
drops the other boot.

Next time it's played a little
differently, showing a sliver of
hip, a firm glossy oblique--
And all with conscious oblivion.

Their belt-ripping builds in
many wavelengths overlapping
at unexpected amplitudes, an
irregular but unified chant.
It arouses an assembly-line
of sighs and blushes. The wives
look spent when it's finally
done, and the last one laces his boots.

-------

First of all, this actually happened. I'm jus' a 'lil ol' country girl from Mississippi, and I had HUNDREDS of hot young men parading before me, carelessly ripping off clothes. I wasn't hiding that I was watching either.

If you video-taped this, it'd be horribly boring to watch, but I feel like the moment should be recorded as I felt it.