They make it easy when you travel, barring you from entry
until you wave the proper documents and open your suitcase.
Harder at home, when the crossing is constant and the border
so blurry as to be nearly invisible. Last night, she let herself
use the word, “overwhelm” before crumpling into my shoulder.
“You can’t do everything,” I murmured. “No one can.” But then
we slept and woke and it felt like it always does, blank and new,
the passport stampless, ready for the trip. Somehow, we find a way
to pack the bags again, heave ourselves through traffic, face the crowds
and heat and the high price of admission. We’d do almost anything for that view.