A boy walks through the airport silently;
no one notices a thing.
short glances and some sighs are heard,
but no friendly greetings.

He keeps his eyes frozen
on the thickly carpeted floors
and curls up on a chair.

He can feel strangers gazing at him
but no one is watching.

Pulling a thin phone from his bag,
a sliver of unfeeling metal,
he stares at it for an hour.

Swiping at it like
blank pages in a book
meaningless and filling at the same time.

At one point he rises quickly
and hurries to a stand selling
cold food smothered in plastic.

Exchanging money in a flash
he rushes back to
the safety of his seat.

He nibbles on the sandwich
and shrinks further
into himself

as if ashamed to
even try to live.

Then the plane is ready
and he gathers his things
and waits in the line.

His arms are pressed to his sides
flinching away from contact
as if the skin of strangers
were hot iron.

He retreats into the dark plane
headed to another city
with no one by his side.

If the man across from his seat
had only looked up from his paper,
he would have noticed
dark bruises on his sleepless eyes.

If the woman who took his money
had just caught his trembling hands
she would have seen
scars and ripped bandages.

And if someone, anyone
had said something to him,
he would have collapsed and cried,

shattered on the floor like
shards of twisted glass.

But instead he walked into the cavernous plane
alone and silent.

If someone had done just one thing

Maybe then that boy
would not find himself
in a cold hotel room
with a bottle of pills and
no meaning to life.

Maybe then this world
would have been
a better place.

A place where someone could
be comforted by a stranger,
instead of
ignored.