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Wished away in a taxi reeking 
of stale tobacco smoke and conversations.  
To an airport that proffers no farewell nor greeting 
apart from hostesses teethwhite ministrations.   
I'm work to them and they want me seated.   
Airlocked for prepackaged trays of meals   
flavour enhanced and reheated,   
everything vacuum packed and sealed. 

Nothing upsets when the hard's turned elastic,    
when cover up courtesy smells most infer. 
Obsequious imprints of credit card plastic   
by rat-faced receptionists calling me sir.  
A world that's become like this hotel room.   
All trace of occupation to be cleaned away soon.