You eat 8 meals a day and here
whatever the hour, you can pretend
you’re just jet lagged
You drink beer in the hall entrance
so what
You take drugs before flying
You’re alone in a passing space
eating your 20grams-5euros-cookie
You’re temporarily imprisonned but it’s for your own safety
People check your luggage every day but they won’t go away they won’t go away
The person cleaning the floor has a 38-country-passport which does not even include where they currently live
People are speaking other langages identified as other langages – no one will learn anything here
A guy shows his black credit card asking if he can go the fast lane
There are no fast lanes here but
long corridors, clean tunnels, steps, doors
You don’t recall where you are right now
Could be Rio could be Paris or Santiago
It is not worth knowing as you won’t cross the exit line
This is not a poem about exile
There is a city out there you may never know
Too close to your aim, I know
Why would you bother taking a train, too slow
Fair enough
You’re just gonna vomit your 9th meal of the day and keep your eyes down on the screen promising extra time, short cuts, 6 to 6.45 casual sex or 1 to 1.45 lunch with a business partner. Same. pm.
Though I don’t do jet lag.
Justin(e), no man’s land
Le Barbu 