A throaty airport van
Gives expectant birth to
A flight crew of black and gold and white
As they weave their way into
Tom Bradley
In the bustling dead of night.
Moaning steely birds
Circle high above,
Seeking respite and yet,
Constrained by forces unseen and unheard,
Flash their lights
In bold disdain –
A petulant display,
Both impressive and absurd.
All the while, surly uniforms,
Wearing their silent threats,
Corral the hapless voyagers
Through grim functionality into lines neverending,
Until they emerge
Into a bright carnival sideshow
Of excess and endless spending.
As lures for the prey,
The birds in their various plumages
Are reluctantly tolerated
But banished to distant piers,
Lest they deter the captives
From parting with their currency –
A farewell eliciting no tears.
Stephen Tomkins
3 November 2019
Los Angeles