The fountain's burble soothes, but not
Enough to overcome the microbes'
Savagery. I blow my nose, and force
Myself to believe it's not all that bad
Out here, beneath a grubby sky. One
Grasps at any sign of sun or warmth
In this place.  Neither's common.
I'll be leaving in the morning, less
Than pleased to spend my birthday
Waiting between planes in Phoenix.
Should I buy a cake? A drink might be
A better choice, a step outside to feel
Some honest heat, then quickly back
Within to fidget until my departure,
And to blow my nose.