12 Hours to Schiphol Airport

Lying on a trampoline,

So wonderfully far from home.

Our only lights: The moon, Big Bear and camera flashes,

Preserving our last few hours.

I laugh, unburdened, as a football misses my face,

And Hindi and Dutch insults crash in midair,

between finally, friends.

Our goodbyes can wait, as can the tears,

They are not to be shared just yet.

Should we never see our 'firangis' again,

At least they were ‘ours’ for a while.

With aching legs I cycle back. (home?)

To shove souvenirs into a suitcase.

The A.M.’s winds strike against my face,

But they don’t seem so cold anymore.

I toast farewell with coffee and waffles,

My flight awaits—I must now sleep.

To live in a dream for just a little longer,

I hope I never wake.