Changi

Purple seats 

Draw a series 

Of diagonal lines

Parallel yet bidirectional

They are empty

On a terminal

Whose carpeted floor

Absorbs the shock

Of the world left behind

It is quiet

Across the thickest glass

Tails and heads and bodies move

Colors and prints 

Long, lofty 

They are huge

The doors open

It is cold 

It is warm

You are now helpless

But surrender is freedom

Fasten your seatbelt

And enjoy the flight

The cabin 

Is pressurised.

Note: Wrote this while waiting for my flight at Changi Airport