All our passports have expired.
I stack them at one end of the table
in plain view, a reminder to fill out
reapplication forms. When and why
did this become such a procedure,
for those who truly have nothing
to declare? Last spring we wanted to buy
tickets for a train that goes nowhere except
around the foothills, starting from some town
in Virginia. Just as the trees began to stipple
with color, you might sit and look out of clear
picture windows, drink champagne and bite
into triangles of cheese while listening to a tour
guide narrate history. All this as if to say, why
should the destination always be about place?
There's still that deeper country to explore,
the one we carry with us everywhee we go.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.