Traveling Alone—by Billy Collins
Sunday, January 4th, 2009At the hotel coffee shop that morning,
the waitress was wearing a pink
uniform
with “Florence” written in script over her heart.
And the man who
checked my bag
had a badge that said “Ben.”
Behind him was a long row of
royal palms.
On the plane, two women poured drinks
from a cart they rolled
down the narrow aisle —
“Debbie” and “Lynn” according to their winged
tags. (more…)