scene from an airport (part two: jfk)

there's very little to tell about my stint at jfk except for this:

i'm sitting on a bench, reading this and listening to the ipod. i look up. there is an airport security guard positioned directly opposite me, leaning up against a pillar with his left hand down his pants. i'm fairly certain he wasn't doing anything lewd <> but still. inappropriate. highly. he wasn't a tall man. it's not like he needed a place to rest his weary hand. maybe they took away his gun and he was experiencing some phantom pains? i don't know. i wasn't about to ask, lest the right hand decide it was lonely and move in with the left.

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