Fixed to the floor and fastened nearly forever
to five uniform black and chrome seats,
"you" face "Gate 7" for more than human lifetimes.
You are sat upon by manifold types and sizes
of people who foul your surfaces.
But like earth you are not horrified or humiliated
by a chocolate smudge or crumpled candy wrapper.
Blessings to you, airport terminal seating.
You are the last best chair for me, a weary traveler.
You are a safe firmament before I take flight
into the unbounded realms of uncertain air.
by Randy Evans
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