Terminal A, Gate 15

[glen]

Terminal A, Gate 15

Three promised rejects languish over vinyl thrones, their snickers
targeting the know-it-alls spouting advice on CNN.
They reign in a domain of their own minds, these tattooed prophets,
Their black T-shirts screaming "Misfits" and "Dropkick Murpheys."
Their posture shouting apathy, anarchy and united opposition to "normal."

Across the air-conditioned, humid, blue-carpet and forest of vinyl stumps,
A woman of God in white and nunnly headdress
smiles and shields a toddler from danger with her eyes.
They sit worlds apart--the misfits and the shepherdess--
and yet they hold a common bond of metal,
and jet fuel,
and pretzels,
and a shuffling line at 9:15.

Now boarding.
Will all non-conformists please get in line.
Moo.

[kd]

wow, I like the way you connect the two opposing images with a common bond, but then the last stanza kind of threw me for a loop.
Quite a variety of images. My head is still spinning. Who knows where it will land.