22nd April, '96

The smell of airplanes
clung to hair and skin
and hid
amongst clothes
in my father's luggage,
escaping slowly
as we opened each
one and rummaged within
in search of treasures,
always hidden,
both for practical purposes
and to amuse us.

Pencil cases were
usually found
up pant legs,
while shirt sleeves,
when unbuttoned,
would reveal
erasers and felt tip
markers,
that would be
paraded proudly
at school the next day.

Chocolates, always
still in the box,
to keep them
from spoiling,
while hard-boiled candy
was scattered loose
in nooks
and crevices,
some of them sticking
to the bottom
where they remained,
like solitary oysters
secretive,
and self-contained,
closed off to the world,
until they were pried away
just before the next journey.