I count the minutes
and watch
the sun setting
on your time in Africa
the cloud-mark of your plane
leaves its path of entrails
across our continent
I can feel
that you have left
By now you will be served
the plane's plastic palatables
your younger asking to wee
your older adjusting headphones
fully focused on a film
as you
your head still spinning
with the spoils of Africa
reach for a painkiller
wondering
whether Dick still waits
heads up
at the departure gates?
will there be cigarette smoke on his cheeks
his eyes burning, begging
his cheek turned to you
as he leans close
so you can know
Dick still waits
will he help you with the luggage or
Push on
The baggage still between you?
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