The last time I visited Michigan when I arrived at the airport it was something like 5 below. The natives didn’t find that at all unnatural, but the tourists all huddled near the exit grabbed hands, mustered up whatever courage they could find and started running for whomever was waiting for them with an open car door. No one was waiting for me as my flight had gotten there early so I went for a drink. An airport bar is an odd thing, can’t ask anyone ‘you come here often?’ though I saw a few people trying. Instead I just watched people coming and going for a little while, and left this scribbled on a napkin when it was my time
it seems we are all glasses,
half empty, or half full,
all ready to drink up
trying to get whole