Baggage Claim by Jeffery Allen Tobin

Welcome to the terminal of transient hearts,
where arrivals and departures are scheduled art,
and the baggage carousel grinds—
a slow, circular confession under fluorescent lights.

Here, we all await our luggage—
those cumbersome cases of past mistakes,
packed tight with mismatched memories and
casual regrets, wrapped in the fine fabric of
faded love letters and one-way tickets to yesterday.

Scan the tags: destinations worn, corners torn.
Lost? Delayed? Or merely misplaced
during a layover in someone else’s days?
The conveyor belt lurches—a reluctant revelation,
spilling secrets as suitcases tumble into the open.

Each traveler, a story stooped in silhouette,
eyes squinting for the first sign of their emotional cargo—
that duffel bag dense with old jokes,
that rolling case rattling with loose ends,
or that overstuffed backpack, zippers strained
under the weight of compressed dreams.

Notice the irony of the lost luggage office,
staffed with those who’ve never lost enough
to understand the true cost of replacement.
They offer forms, a pen, a sympathetic smile—
yet another claim filed for something
irretrievably gone, wandering a carousel elsewhere.

At the pickup point, hands grab at handles,
lifting burdens as familiar as the faded jeans
they wore last season, last year, last decade—
a perfect fit for bodies weathered by journeys
that span the globe but never quite span the gap
between departure and arrival.

And so we travel, from gate to gate,
each boarding pass a bookmark in the novel of our lives,
chapters concluded with a sigh, a shrug—
the gentle melancholy of recognition that
no matter where we land,
it’s never quite like the brochure promised.

Thank you for flying with us today,
on this flight scheduled from youth to twilight,
with layovers in moments both bright and bleak.
We hope you find what you’re looking for—
even if it’s just a good reason to keep on your feet.