at Newark International Airport
Patient as a stain, he sits and waits at
his stand. Eye glasses reflect concourse light.
Brown bow tie lighter than his skin. Shirt that
resembles swans down: fluff and spotless white.
Legs, crossed in tan pants wrinkle-free to seam,
lift cuffs above ankles, reveal silk socks
off-white but clean. His laced cordovans gleam.
Shaved-head man, satchel in hand, checks the clock,
scurries into elevated seat. Hands
surgeon-quick curl up dark cuffs, sharply dash
leather with liquid, ritual command
of the show. Dry cloth, then wax. Rag long as sash
pops, flicked by rhythmic fingers. No chance
his flexing legs engage in unplanned dance.
Roger Armbrust
July 21, 2001
