Leaving Pier 2 (My Own Version Of Departure) Poem by RIC BASTASA

it is not easy to leave
Pier 2. First one buys
a ticket, gets a pass.
Then you open your bag before
that security guard
who does not look
like a man at all,

then you take your bag
and sit inside the shuttle
that takes you to another
building. You step down
take your bag again.
Another inspection is
done. You pass by
another door, a detector
of metals and fragments.

You take another bus
again that transports you
to the port of entry where
the boat is about to leave.

You're almost dead when
you arrive at your bed
inside the boat.
Then you discover that
your bag was left at the
bus. It is missing and
your money is there.

Leaving Pier 2 is
really that inconvenient.
You are not wet by
the rain. It has nothing
to do with your bareback
or your taste of salt
as your lips kiss the
sea and be dramatic
to assume that your
lover is finally getting
rid of your body odor.

You are
practically bathing
with your own sweat.

Who cares anyway?
You swear you take
the plane next time.