Perpetual Homesickness

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                by Anjana Basu

You can put your gloves in the cart.

Glad to watch your TV and fall asleep on your couch.

Glad to sleep in your bed again in your room again.

To eat in your favourite Indian restaurant and to drink in your favourite pub.

Perpetual homesickness, which sounds romantically tragic,

the type of tragedy that makes for a progressive rock ballad

or an overdramatic teen film.

Tehran, Iraq, a Serge Gainsbourg moment

looking over your shoulder behind you the barbed wire

You were still homesick,

missed your bed in your cold apartment,

missed the water and the street

and the view of parking meters

and a metal fence outside your window.

A pretend career for a pretend life.

And the worry about money and rent and living.

It was still imaginary.

 

All you have accomplished is to drive

what fear they might have a little deeper

and increase the chance our children may discriminate against other nations.

Wonder what the security guard is producing.