Exiting KLIA on a hot night of aircraft thunder runway
engines kick in, we kick out
the engines quieten, then pick up
the flaps go down, the leading edge whining out
the night beginning to paint pinpricks of ground light
a road appearing, then a car, then a fence
the thud of the runway,
air brake, reverse thrusting
extra kerosene
the shuddering goes as quick as it came
job complete
here,
the smell of ubiquitous airport
emanating kerosene and perfume
the bi-lingual departure information
African robe, Arab business suit
Caucasian jeans, sports gear
women on show, women hidden away
I look at the pretty KLM girl, but she’s a cardboard cut-out
rather the way I think I am now
4 30
thinking they are on the go
through the window
coach bringing in new
taking out transit
a catering truck, fire engine, petrol tanker
unclear in the orange haze
of a beginning morning here
one plane, then another, another run and go
the half-awake runway watching them, irate
