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The Vkcl-,i,-al) Dadv - Vv'odnesdak . Nlarc 1 '009

BAGGAGE
CLAIM
after thirty two hours
of sleepwalking,
removing my belt and shoes
for customs,
the magna wand clicking
a typewriter's symphony
at my crotch,
after the cocoon
of recycled air
and tinfoil-broiled
meals, babies'
exasperated whines
and jet engines'
cabin-pressured hiss
after the many goodbyes
of my hometown like
rust-colored leaves
blowing in the breeze,
and the loving
hurried cut in my mother's
voice as she shoos me
down the gate like
a cicada emerging
from its husk,
I stand here,
no excitement
at my new life
as a polyglot,
no music stuck in my head
besides runway ambient
no taste in my mouth
but half-fermented saliva.
I stand here
and I want two things;
my bags and my bed.
Adventure can go fuck itself.
--Brad Dembs,
LSA senior
WANT TO
DESIGN
FLASH
GRAPHICS?
E-mail
graca@michigandaily.com


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