"World Travelers" (a poem)


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I think I pack light,

I don’t.

I say I’m an easy traveler,

I’m not.

 

If I could squeeze

my insecurities,

pained sensuality,

confusion about unconditional love

into that 3oz. bottle,

 would you fly with me?

 

I’ll happily

x-ray my belongings.

Everything is on this table,

for you to see.

I have nothing to hide.

 

I will remove my shoes,

necklace,

watch.

I will show you,

my dislike for dog hair,

 my fear you will cheat

on me.

My jealous streak.

I can scan that, too.

I want you to see

everything.

 

 I am afraid,

you want to check your bags,

underneath,

where I can’t see them.

Where dark, deceptive worlds dwell—

deep pockets of infidelity,

hidden zippers of contingent love,

duct taped, beat up boxes

of unresolved issues.

 

I don’t pack light.

I am an uneasy traveler,

and, but, also,

I am easy to love.

 

 I know what to do,

should the contents of our commitment,

shift during flight.

 

Come fly with me.

 Let us keep our baggage close.

Let it not out of our sight.

Because...

hope waits for no one,

in Lost Luggage.