Dad hears the saltwater
in my eyes over the phone,
chastizes me for being young
and being photographed.

I am scared he's disappointed in
the mistakes that I have made
in the last 24 hours,
he sighs and reassures
that he can understand.
Perhaps his nostalgia hurts him, I think,
naive and unafraid of being wrong again.

I lost my wallet in a cab and
all I am crying about is
the possibility that I won't
be allowed on the plane, won't
be allowed to be comfortable in my skin, in my voice, in
my home if even
for six days.

07/11/2008

Posted on 07/11/2008
Copyright © 2025 Melanie J Yarbrough