from the archives of a poet.

Bad Omen

He was at the airline check-in
shackled at his feet,
and at his hands,
the chains attached to a utility belt.
He was being transferred
perhaps to another prison.
A runaway who finally got caught?
Sexual assault?
Tax fraud?
He could be innocent but
he could be one of the criminals
who really got what he deserved,
or even got off easy.
He looked at me with wide eyes
That knew regret, sorrow, and shame.
As he scanned me up and down
I felt compelled to smile
And there in that instant
The prisoner imprisoned me
And I spent my flight
Trapped in the shackles of my own mind
Unable to decipher the differences
Between him and I
Both innocent and guilty.