Nowhere

A palace of white light nausea,
chocolate for children already sugared with strangeness.

The fizzing of stateless particles
A little shaken, some sluggish, drifting down
into coffee bar chairs
to find out where they are.

Newspapers from the wrong country,
right language; sports with mystery rules,
wrong-flavoured sushi and stewed tea.

Whiskey nerves, no Scotch malt;
a conversation with a salesman
a conference-world,
internationally bland.

A mirage skin likes to stick to the windows
smug pouring waits to delay or
red-brick heat defied by air-con.

Gateways that disperse for ever
two pairs of eyes that might have met,
and pairs of hands that never shook
grip the sides of seats as the ground dives.