Two Armrests

Four days down, and I’ve been drinking through old haunts and airports. These are my favorite corners of all the small earths. I’m paying a price on a Monday, in the middle seat gaining the territory of two armrests. Stolen between strangers, as if they would know who I was. Jammed in the slot, coach cabin with plastic cup cabernet that I spilled down my leg. Wet ankle at takeoff, and TTX on repeat again (all year)  "I’d have held myself much closer then"