You will pay for your loose thoughts, man.
Getting to and from the airport takes time,
Even the best airport. The smooth
machinery of international air travel will not wait
while you rush to fetch your passport from the bedside drawer.
The captain's hat is on; he will fly.
His family in Stirling expects him at eight. They will eat,
play games, fight, a family. Families do not
stop for you. You will pay for your calm mind, my friend.
The man behind the counter, long shift, will joke
with the heavycloak-laden woman before you.
They have every right,
like you in your office with the admin beside you.

You will pay for your wracked independence: no one
will come running after you, hands held high,
waving the passport aloft. No one will come running,
the telephone is useless, you have not cultivated,
you have nurtured nothing.
You'll pay for that mind, my friend, but you'll give easily.
You are honest and proud.