3 poems
by Tyler Bigney
Kabul
They sit in a candlelit corner
memorizing one another’s face –
the lines, the pores, and the freckles.
They are in love.
Each of them a safe haven
for the other.
Together they listen,
as camouflaged troops
race the narrow streets,
eyes never blinking,
as the window gives life
to the bright, yellow explosions outside.
The bear
Humid night.
On my way to work,
the window rolled down.
Empty road, just me, the darkness,
some crickets, and the man on the radio
talking about how they found a cure
for some disease I’ve never heard of.
But the doctors in this country don’t believe
in this particular cure, so people have to go
to Germany, Mexico, or Sweden to find it.
Up on the road ahead, something lies still
on the center lines. I stop, get out, and walk over.
Before I see it, I know it’s a bear.
I can tell by the smell.
I walk – hurry – back to my car. I turn the channel
from news to music. I sit there alone, with the crickets,
the darkness, the music, and the sleeping bear.
I roll all the windows up. I stay there for awhile.
And then I go.
Domodedovo Airport
A couple carries a baby in a stroller
down an escalator.
The Russians fill up the smoking room
and age ten years
in a matter of minutes.
A woman with purple shoes
screams into her phone
before throwing it into the trash
only to come back five minutes later
to fish it out.
The Chinese stand in circles
talking and laughing.
Talking
and laughing.
One hour left.
I find a place to drink –
a shot of vodka
and a glass of orange juice –
watching all the beautiful women
walking.
Heart breaking
at the thought
of having to say
goodbye.
