Tarmac Walk

Walking on airport tarmac,
long walk to the airbus, past several other planes,
courtesy of the biggest, cheapest, most soulless "airline" in europe,
smell of fumes and generators,
makes me think of the lungs of the guys in vis vests with mickey mouse ears,
which makes me think of my father's father,
who died years before I was born,
his lungs torn apart,
confused by the same sort of gunk,
and how this walk is a walk he might have took,
out on tarmac,
when he worked here -
yonks before customers were ever allowed feel wind on faces,
back when they were cherished precious things, not rats in mazes.
And I could feel the old man I never met,
who must've been so perfect,
because my granny still grows giddy at the thought of him,
smiling at her from above (of course),
still deep in love,
and he's walking with me,
and I can smell what love once smelt like to my gran.