Copenhagen

Have I been somewhere if my only there is where airplanes come and go? 

Copenhagen

Bob Komives

I arrive to depart,
spend two hours,
look through a few large windows
(out to somewhere-nowhere).
I buy coffee,
admire the wooden floor.
Tempted by a book and elegantly packaged toffee
I deny my urge
and speak a quiet "no" to myself,
but I speak to no strangers.
(I guess them to be not-native in my English language.)
 
Yes,
I am here now
but will never have been here.
(unless I return to linger)
(unless great-good fortune or disaster strikes now as I depart)
 
To inquisitors I will deny this moment and place,
because,
in all honesty,
this lie lies closest to the truth.

poem by Bob Komives :: Fort Collins © 2011 :: Copenhagen :: 1108