An Ode to Airport Security, Assignment #24

Please take your laptops out of your bags,
The uniformed man chants down the line,
Lengthening behind me, piles
Widen against the aisle.

A plastic grey bin for our belongings
Totes away my little purple pouch.
Pull out my little Dell Inspiron.

Unloaded, rush to the other side.
Rewind everything. String the pouch
Across the shoulders, grab that green
Carry-on before other bags catch up.

Try and look natural; disheveled nonetheless.

What are the rules in Amsterdam?

Put all liquid items in these bags.
Chants the Dutch agent circling the line.
Even powered makeup? All in bags.
In goes the mascara; the eye shadow;
The blush – ziplocked for the plastic bin.

Do I
need to
take off
my shoes?
Yes, yes, very pretty.
He smiles.

The gate is five strides away, so easy?
Hank crosses the plastic doors, gazing
Back at us from Rome’s embrace. We follow –

Blue rigid shirt,
Wrinkle-free trousers,
Black and creased,
Proud stride.
Scusa, passport.
Italian to my
Virgin ears.
Rifling through,
Papers in the way –
Copy of copy of itinerary –
Finally grip its coarse cover,
Passport opened to show.

Where were you board?
Boarded in Seattle,
Transferred in Amsterdam,
Final destination,
Rome.

No, no. Board. Where?
Stare back
Told the only possible answer
Is wrong.

Born, born! Where were you born!
I flush red,
Flustered,
Wine rouging my cheeks.
Answer fast!
China.

Sneer.
China is big, where?
Hangzhou, China….it’s –

Where are you going? Same Italian.
To Campo de’ Fiori, Rome Center.
Train is to the left, up the stairs.
Actually, we plan to take the Concora.
Train goes to the center, to the left.
But –
Passport flap flips closed.
Train is to the left.