During long layovers,
I start drinking coffee again,
burnt,
astringent,
overpriced,
my stomach churning acid.
I do it to pass the time,
because my eyes are heavy and tired,
and can’t roll comfortably across the pages
of the book I brought along optimistically,
the blue light of my cellphone screen
melting my brain,
leaking out of my ears.
During long layovers,
I start drinking coffee again
to avoid the bleak smoking rooms
of European airports,
the ash so thick it covers the floor,
the smell polluting my clothes,
the yellow eyes of my fellow addicts
swallowing me up.
It’s time for boarding,
shrill announcement passing through a tin can
bouncing in my skull,
heart vibrating,
nerves on fire.
I pledge to give up bad coffee,
until the next time my hands
need something to occupy them.