A poem about melancholy, loneliness, airports, and travelling

Ullman, Corey S.

English

Gettysburg College

Student Publications Student ScholarshipFall 2018Ode to being In-BetweenCorey S. UllmanGettysburg CollegeFollow this and additional works at: https://cupola.gettysburg.edu/student_scholarshipPart of the Poetry CommonsShare feedback about the accessibility of this item.This open access creative writing is brought to you by The Cupola: Scholarship at Gettysburg College. It has been accepted forinclusion by an authorized administrator of The Cupola. For more information, please contact cupola@gettysburg.edu.Ullman, Corey S., "Ode to being In-Between" (2018). Student Publications. 664.https://cupola.gettysburg.edu/student_scholarship/664Ode to being In-BetweenAbstractA poem about melancholy, loneliness, airports, and travelling.KeywordsPoem, poetry, place, mindfulnessDisciplinesCreative Writing | PoetryCommentsWritten for Eng 205: Into to Creative Writing.Creative Commons LicenseCreativeCommonsLicenseThis work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 4.0 License.This creative writing is available at The Cupola: Scholarship at Gettysburg College: https://cupola.gettysburg.edu/student_scholarship/664Ode to being In-Between  Corey Ullman I’ve never been here, but every airport feels like a dream of every other airport. I know on instinct where things are, how they should be arranged, and the only things I notice are errors in assumptions, new things to add to ​what an airport should be. ​Revisions to a theory. Where I was wrong.  I was rushed through the first two hours here and now I have two more to wait. The flight before mine is still boarding. The people are the same in their individuality, the fact that I won’t know them, won’t ever meet them. Too many to begin understanding.  I want to wander around the airport but if I leave my suitcase it’ll get stolen and if I take my suitcase I have to take my suitcase.  A small price to pay, I suppose. It rolls behind me, clicking on white tiles tinged blue by the sky.   This place isn’t real. I describe a place without a soul,  a place defined by how little it is.  Sitting between every other place it is a map that can point everywhere  (and thus is a vast nowhere,)  an empty vase,  two mirrors facing each other. I stand between.   I buy a coffee. It tastes loud.  This wing of the airport is empty. I sit on my suitcase.  There’s a glass statue of hands as a tree, a hundred feet tall and utterly alone.  I feel my presence, here, now, reflected in chips of glass.   I hear music,  from somewhere.  Like water.  I do not seek its source.   

Ode to being In-Between

https://cupola.gettysburg.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1743&amp;context=student_scholarship

Ode to being In-Between

Abstract

Similar works

Full text

Available Versions

Gettysburg College