Run Visa Run

cold sweats in an immigration queue i`ve everything & nothing to declare hand trembles as it pushes a passport over the ledge into the hand of fate a process designed to inspire nervous twitches/ recognisable warning signs asked for evidence of forward journey (as if mere mortality were not enough then subjected to a crotch pat-down luggage rearrangements & repackings an apology & our tidy duet with zips questions as to future itineraries - drinking habits employment situation sniffing at feet & padded jackets ... is this why they call it "customs"? shoes removed & arms outstretched ... some meditative pose while minions search your person for spirit-ghosts a hushed quiet hanging over us all passing through a cold unassuming concourse (all memory of your past life erased every cavity aches for fresh air (or death/ this country whose culture you hope you`ll never have to fully understand let alone experience ... the attendant smiles as if we`re friends & it`s all over i`m free to do as i please (so i run

Comments

Anonymous said…
very noice & scary stuff

whats a "passort"?

hoorah!
the spell chequer
Anonymous said…
erm ... yes, passort. isn`t it a kind of car?
David Prater said…
Thanks Anony Mouse.

D

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