about wearing out in the empty Providence airport

Unbothered runways press out to a deafened, mud-washed fringe of trees. Most people drive here. And away. Inside, neutral pop plays over the PA and suppresses mood. An unattended bag, a wilting plant in public space. How many rough mornings have there been at the Hampton Inn & Suites Providence Airport? Say goodbye to me and Massachusetts' shrunken head.

the inherent tension of waiting

Sunlight churns this day through, generating a good breeze in the doing. We stalled on the durable iron chairs--my elbows on the mesh tabletop, and you, adjacent, cycle through phases in umbrella shade. Do you feel this tension? Do you feel the reason why I can't think of anything to say? Or, for you, maybe this fine slice of day is enough. The umbrella blooming over the nearby table stutters; ours holds. I imagine a wild iris flower: grows so heavy it tips over.

about a Snickers, in five bites

I see before me a man who wants to enjoy his Snickers bar. He is very different from the man I saw before me earlier, who set himself in the airport chair by gate 25 to eat a whole sleeve of Oreo cookies. No, this Snickers man takes just two bites of his candy bar before takeoff; the next two bites will power him through the airport, and what the last bite is for only this slender man so efficiently built knows.