Spacing out in the airporton a toilet, almost no sleepwaiting for a connecting flightI think I might be hallucinatingA month quickly gone byvisiting family and friendstrying to put togetherwhat happened to my fatherThe duffle bag in front of my feet — never out of sight — filled with memorabilialovingly donated by hisfriends and familyI look up at my handbaghanging on a hook against the stall wallchecking if that too is movingThe duffle bag isrocking back and forthnot far from my toes