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They won’t leave me at the airport

when I go back.

They will wait.

Park the truck,

carry my bags to the counter.

They won’t cry

and I won’t neither.

 

Dad will tuck bills

into the fold of my hand.

A little something

before I go back to the monopoly-colored

money in my wallet.

 

Mom will call me her baby

because even now,

all growed up and living away,

I am.

 

They’ll watch me pass security.

I won’t look back.

 

 

 

Jennifer deBie is an MA in Creative Writing student at University College Cork in Cork, Ireland. She is also a recent graduate of Angelo State University, a native Texan, and an aspiring poet, novelist, short story-ist, and general scribbler. Her work has appeared in Sound Historian, Quarryman, and will soon appear in Apricity literary journal.

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