Airports are where
The Families of the poor
Reconstitute themselves
Around the loss
-Albeit temporarily-
Of one bound for money.
His passport gleams;
Again he checks the spelling
Of his unusual name.
His constract clads
His abdomen in iron;
No one will go unfed.
While businessmen
Rush past him, wifeless and cool,
To tokyo ,Rome, and LAX,
Desert blanket
His cold brain. He dwells on their
Irrigable vastness
Cousins bemoan
The parkless tracts of Jidah
(Go for the VCR!)
Uncless applaud
His inbred plumber's genuis.
(Taxt-free Johnnie Walkers!)
His father counts
The interests to pay on
Their mortgaged happiness.
His mother frames
His swarthy neck with special
Bishop-blessed crucifix.
His bride endures
The taunts, his gritty silence,
their hard, abraded love.
He wonders if
It will still be mourning when
They lick the scraps of his
Pre-departure
Feast, propitiate their saints,
Then bolt the door, and sleep.