Early morning airport is a brutal scape, security concrete,
metal fences, bleak empty blacktop where there was once a
cheery drop-off. Ditches dug crude through what used to be
aesthetically sculpted lawns. What was my favourite airport,
a beautiful thing of metal & glass has been rudely
re-imagined as a hack-back-cover-up devoid of love.
A building that used to be something I was proud of resembles
a gutted store for end-of-line knock-offs – feels like being
back at the Berlin wall. I curse the car park machines,
feel a cloud descend on me, find something I can call
attractive, wind down the window, shout,
“Thank you!” driving the Southern back roads home.
Rinsing that visual kicking I just took with a music shower,
another day in the studio, writing for the Yew Double-Yew