First Trip

When we travel first time
All alone to a new country
Many worries will land
Along with you at the airport.

Somebody at the immigration
Will be scanning our eyes
Using the camera lenses
To take an image of our worries,
The colors of our dreams
From our thumb impressions.
The dates of our solitude
Will be stamped on passport.

San Francisco, when did
I land Into your colorful dreams
Like a silent computer robot
By loaning my village memories.

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