Charles de Gaulle Airport
“Control”? No, it was anarchy
as four lines funneled into three,
then two, all ending up inside
a maze of rope lines that defied
our hopes for just a modicum
of dignity, and then as some-
one poked me in the back, we heard,
from yards away, the latest word:
a uniformed official yelled,
so loudly that she’d have excelled
at drawing distant livestock near,
“All U.S. passports over here!”
Yes, in that crowded and chaotic
room—some of us near psychotic
with exhaustion and frustration—
we found new cause for irritation:
although we’d heeded every sign,
we’d waited on the wrong damned line.