untitled (‘I drove to your father’s smoke-stale house’)

I drove to your father’s smoke-stale house
Helped you pack your excess baggage
Shared a last coffee to delay the inevitable;
Mustered your excited children and envious parents
Convoyed to the airport.

Followed your treasure hunt from check-in to departure tax
to refreshment bar (milk for your baby)
Sat on stained, burnt airport carpet, awaiting your boarding call
Monitored your dancing children and nervous parents
While you rested in a blue chair.

Waved you through the door of no return
— Bye! Enjoy yourselves! —
Watched you dive skyward in an iron lung on metal wings
Parted formally with your relieved parents
And drove home dangerously, Jimi Hendrix screaming, home to nothing, crying.

What do you think?