Passport Office, Salt Lake County Clerk, 23 January 2018

Here were all allies. We were all allies here.
The clerks were unfailingly helpful. Photos
Were taken. “Did you break the camera?”
Joked the friends. Confusing heaps of forms
Were explained. “That’s the 2013 version.
Let’s transfer your information.” Patient
Individuals of various shades of skin waited
Each a turn. Some things could be paid
In cash or credit, others only in money
Orders or with personal checks. The woman
Who filed my renewal asked if I’d done
Good traveling on the last one. I thought
Of the previous ten years of my existence,
Happiest and most self-destructive, and said
Yes. And what was my favorite country
Visited? I recommended Namibia, and she,
With a conspiratorial chuckle reminisced
About the time the President of this nation
State referred orotundly to the mythical
African country of “Nambia.” I smiled.
At the booth beside me someone mused
Whether any of our passports would arrive
Before the next federal budget shutdown.
There’s a truth among commoners seeking
Permission to travel the Earth. Any of us,
Clerks or customers, could be struck down
And denied, by mistake or by fiat, anytime.
Civilization is a protection racket, at best,
For the mass of we trivial lives, for the most.
Outside the unwashed window sun glowed
Ignoring the imaginary world its heat raised.
Here were all allies. We were all allies here.