Freeverse 215

1/5/20

I feel every twitch in my thumb
finding patterns in the black fabric of the back of the seat in front of me
ten minutes turns into three hours and turns back again
if I squint, the plastic tray with its lonely empty circle
looks clean
a spotless spot
the pocket netting expands to accommodate my stuff
just things
like us passengers and the universe expanding
only beef stew available

Please anonymously VOTE on the content you have just read:

Like:
Dislike:



For poetry, I recommend:


Please show me a randomly selected poem