boarding call

I do this all the time; chainsmoking at airports, scoffing coffee and eating shit food. Skulking around departure lounges, trying to guess the postcodes of people by the way that they talk.
I've lost count of numbers; mobiles of lovers, flight codes, booking references, times I've been in the sky this year. Drunk, sober, still coming down; I've passed through so many security screens it's a wonder I still have my fears.

This morning the ozone has opened on melbourne and is pouring the day onto the streets. Yesterday I spun theories about the relationship between the sky and the sun shining out of peoples arses. This muggy city is so easy to hate and so hard to leave. I'm trying to distance myself from the past by limiting myself to carry on baggage.

If they can build landscapes out of concrete and ambition surely I can create a time lapse out of conveyer builts and desire. Project myself onto moving luggage to find peices of myself in other peoples clothes.