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.