baggage claim

mom leaves lipstick traces
as she tells me goodbye,
tears on her cheeks
spreading away from each
other on their half-circle
paths

dad is stoic in a sweater and
bathing suit shorts,
a suitcase in each hand
and the light brush of lips
on my forehead

three thousand miles and
six bags of peanuts later,
i'm the last one left watching
the stop/start of the airport's
best version of an empty
merry-go-round

and if my luggage has gone
someplace else,
perhaps i should go there too.