The Terminal

Written the post The Terminal and the Long Walk North


Glass room, waiting room, last room of the night

We’re all here, The Nighttime Squatters, and we’re doin’ all right.

Singers, preachers, vagabonds

Lonely travellers correspond

Through that which holds us true

In lieu,

of all that’s passed.


Terminal, all night, open doors, carnal delight

Beggers, laggers, splish-splashers, whores

The Terminal welcomes all through its

See-through doors

and if there comes a day

When no-one comes to stay

the night

or on the plastic lay

just right

without departing ticket –

the only lonesome sound

a sadly chirping cricket –

The Terminal ceases

to be just so

and changes to only

a terminal

Without light, or HBO

or lit cigarettes, brighten glow


Stories, winded, shouted – television ignored

All attentions riveted on the glories of the lore

the tales of Terminal Traveller

Heard many times before

and multiplied here,

to be spread to there,

and there – from ear to ear,

as was done before

in the Terminals of Yore


Smoky, loud, a mixture of tongues

Him in Spanish, her in Brazilian.

Those two in something

like unintelligible Crocodilian.

Lighters flicking, flames licking, watches ticking away

another night in The Terminal – soon another day

With normal passengers and normal stories

Nothing like the nighttime sorties

of The Terminal at dusk


Laugh. Shout. Beg. Spout

the feelings in your heart

‘cause here it never gets that dark

The lights are always on

There’s no dark, and there’s no dawn

Just the infinite, superfluous, mysterious,







Four am, you want to sleep

To lay there, quiet, not make a peep

But then comes in a bearded man

With a dirty cap and wizened hand

He grins and tells you get up, son!

Your night in here is far from done!

The lights are on, and I’ve brought ale

Now sit right there and I’ll tell you a tale

About the beaches of Uruguay

A place of sun, a place of sky

A place where one must always abide

By the rules of Sea and Air!


The bearded man keeps on talking

You listen on and it’s all too shocking

When suddenly the door bursts open

Revealing a woman with her mouth wide open

Angry words are spewing out

The poor man behind her not looking so stout

“You’re a useless bum!” she shouts in Spanish

“Get out of here!” he she does banish.

She takes a seat across from you

She smiles coyly, something’s abrew

“I love your eyes, they are so blue!”

Her smile is missing some teeth

She reeks of HIV, and queefs


Terminal, oh Terminal,

Tell me a story

Mr. amputee

And get this bitch away from me


The dawn is here, no time to rest

Still, lay on down and do your best

Eight am the guard comes by

“Wake up now, your time’s gone by,”

All you give is a groan in reply

The Terminal affords no rest

The Terminal puts you to the test

And so you’ve spent a long wild night

In the place where there’s always some kind of light

A gathering, a meeting, a shelter, a home

Anything but a big white dome

Where people wait

for buses to come

Guaranteed, you’re never alone





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