Sitting in the airport lounge, on an orange plastic seat,
She waits to see the groom-to-be, the one she’s here to meet,
She misses the white winter snows of her homeland already,
But doing this will feed her Gran and keep the money steady.
A fat old man just four-foot-nine bears her name upon a card,
He’s not quite like his photograph and shorter by a yard,
He scans the crowd and licks his lips, there’s condoms in his pocket,
He'll try her in the parking lot, ‘soon as he has her docket.
She knows that many hungry mouths are counting on her part,
And long ago has given up on romance of the heart,
But standing in this alien land, she wants to try again,
And slipping from the crowded room she gets back on the plane.
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