Oh and SHE DREAMT ALRIGHT?
Dreamt of Japan, of Tokyo skies,
Of ancient temples and Northern lights.
But where are the stamps?
Oh, just her luck—
This passport, if filled,
Would with trips to the same Starbucks.
She wanted more than airport delays,
Not endless reruns of mundane days.
My pages long for faraway lands,
And for her, exotic places,
Footprints in sand.
BUT NO! Here I sit, stamped and worn,
With grocery store trips and cities forlorn.
OH AND SHE DREAMS ALRIGHT?
I swear it’s true,
A world to explore, so much to do.
But instead, I’m stuck with trips nearby,
Oh, the stamps I never got, I sigh.
It’s finally the day, or so I was told,
Clutched in her hands, I felt mighty bold.
But what’s this I sense? A touch of despair,
She fumbles and stumbles—OH GOD! Does she care?
Shuffle through lines, her heart starts to race,
“Where’s my passport?” I send a look of disgrace.
I’m nestled right here, snug in YOUR bag,
PLEASE. How did it come to this, such a drag?
Through all the beeping and questioning stares,
I hear her panicking, caught unawares.
“Wait—where is it?” she shouts with a sigh,
I’m in her OWN HAND—oh, my, oh my!
The drama, the panic, the chaos I bring,
She’s searching for me, but I’m right here—
HELLO? HELLO??? Ding!
Airport blues, a comedy of stress,
Oh, the irony—I must confess.
So here we are, together at last,
A RUSTY companion, I’ll hold steadfast.
Let’s board that flight and take to the skies,
I HOPE this trauma someday subsides.
-Coco Caramello
