I Wonder Where That Woman's Going

I wonder where that woman's going.

She catches my eye, this one person

staring at the Arrivals and Departures,

a purse in her hand and a bag on the floor.

Waiting in the security queue now with my shoes half off,

waiting to get glared at by the guards who love their jobs.

And there she is again, putting on her tan suede cowboy boots.

Maybe she's going somewhere west. Maybe they're just for fashion.

I keep watching her as she goes to get an overpriced Diet Coke.

A girl with piercings in a Slipknot t-shirt, babies and German businessmen,

but still I study this ordinary woman. I wonder where she's going.

I stop to get a Coke and some Chex Mix to hold me over until I get my small ginger ale. Classmates I know and don't know are standing and sitting, talking, waiting to leave. My flight just had to get stuck at the farthest possible gate, didn't it? Figures. These black boots I have on may be fashionable, but they're not very practical for walking. There's a couple of open seats close to some cute girl. Maybe I'll sit there. The man next to me eating his turkey sandwich just thanked a man in camouflage. Why didn't I do that? I just listen to my iPod and eat my Chex Mix, sitting and watching. There's a man with an American flag on his shirt. I wonder if he thanked the soldier.

There she is, straight across from me,

just a few rows away, drinking her Diet Coke.

She get a call on her cell phone and answers;

she laughs and smiles, talking to her friend,

or maybe it's a relative. Is that who she's going to see?

I wonder if she knows I've been watching her.

I wonder if she watches other people she sees.

I wonder if she's noticed me, too.

I don't mean to stalk or be creepy, but sometimes

there's one person who pops up everywhere you go.

We're sitting in a large area for two flights.

Detroit or Minneapolis, where's she going?

Maybe I should thank her for helping me pass the time.