Airport, 7 November

My eyes, dimmed
By drink or tears,
Betray me and I stand helpless.
Flight attendant competently
Recognizing a problem here
Repeats for me. 12C. 12C.

I find my seat;
Try not to think.
I hoist my suitcase up
And some good neighbor lends a hand
Recognizing
A problem here.

I fall in drunken sleep to keep
Thoughts of you away
And only wake to ask
For one more glass.

Distance grows between us
As I sip my Chardonnay,
Thoughts slip quietly by; you slip away.

Clearly, there are those who feel
No pain that cannot drown in beer.
I drink my wine
And do not think of you.