that rise above the low mountains
make daybreak arrive with a spark.
The new day barely started
within and around me
continues its steady, pointless
track to its end.
It has nothing to look forward to anymore;
the sun has learned by now
it will never catch the moon.
But I have a purpose:
the lure of hastily cooked,
barely warmed airport food.
Hungry at 06.10 on 9 October 2007 on my bus ride to Logan Airport.
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