passport

I come by it honestly. Come by here. He was familiar. In his absence we felt more familiar and so we mourned when he left. Overly familiar. I had been reading books and when I woke up it was done. As though it had been done before and required distance.

Come here. What does this say. Orange. U-rine. You rang. She has been beckoning. Those words (that live in books). He has been waiting. One could direct spew. Come. Here. I don’t come here often. Vulgar. Stains and presidents. It is rumored at auctions.

Having arrived he left. Cosmopolitan tourists like blue cheese and beetles. Coming was necessary. He felt like tassels. Constrained with freedom. Down here and held up. As though rooted in place. He spoke of being a transplant. Excess and rejects. Honestly.

It was stamped in the passport. Inspected on arrival. Feeling. In the machines they measure national feeling. It was a solution to the problem of being unpatriotic. I flashed green and black. But I refused to pay blood tax. So I could not belong. Even though I came.

It had been come by honestly. And could not be bought. Here in the familiar absence of distance. I will be coming. Honestly. Spewed into a human stew. Much too close. Overly familiar. As though coming made him know. Pictures from a tourbook. He is leaving.