So the Customs Agents
with their red white and blue faces
full of impatient prodding
opened the baggage of my life
steel for eyes and a deadly calm
soldiers without guns
hunting for terror
I was caught off guard
shaking and trembling and didn't
want to answer any questions at all
I wanted to say, I am not American
I was only born here, by accident.
I've never paid taxes,
never believed in the uniquely
american ego, strutting ugly
for all the world to roll their eyes
with disgust. My friends in Asia
say even so far away, a unanimous
ability to see the truth of the USA
war for oil... war for the greedy few
they all know. I have come back
to collect a few of my things.
Being American my possessions
mean too much, but still I try
to let go. I only hope
that I can always leave, leave, leave.
My passport is to run away.
Not cowardly, but sane.