These things I do not want to do today:
Carry a stuffed backpack upon my back
In foreign airports as I make my way
To a tiny upright seat where I lack
The space needed to stretch out my long legs
Next to another giant of a man
Where we are in position to beg
For a little real estate where we can
Devour a barely edible meal
That was heated up an hour before
Or catch a smidge of sleep so we can feel
Capable of flight through the storms in store.
Or to leave your home, so I can go fly,
Having to hug out my final goodbye.
John Collings 