We group hug,
in suspension
at the border of security.
A stranger, asked to point and shoot
smirks like he’s caught us
in flagrante, the intensity
of our pasts touchable
like the skin of a lover.
He counts 123 cheese
we manufacture grins, link arms
he flashes and we fall
into a file somewhere
that may never ever be
reopened.
I cannot hold this
I cannot hold this longer
a goodbye is a goodbye
a clear division, a cut
in the connection,
a decision.
I pull from the others
only a thin thread leashing me
for decorum’s sake,
at the frontier, anxious to break
I strain towards the nice x-rays
and the plastic laptop trays
and the man in uniform
studying a screen
and then on through the beeping gate
to be frisked lightly
and passed up up up
into blue !